


Yuri!!! On Olympus

by Bug_Catcher_In_Viridian_Forest



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology, Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, More in the notes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-22 11:49:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 61,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14308026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bug_Catcher_In_Viridian_Forest/pseuds/Bug_Catcher_In_Viridian_Forest
Summary: Greek mythology AU where Yuuri is Hermes and Victor is Aphrodite. The journey of two gods: a story of athletics and love.Set in early archaic Greece."Yuuri was filled by a wave of pride at discovering that Victor had been the source of another one’s happiness. Since his own youth and their first meeting, he had been like a star showing him the correct path towards his fulfilment as a god and as an artist and he still found himself marvelled whenever he contemplated how many were guided by the light radiated from the one he loved."





	1. The Golden Carp

**Author's Note:**

> Some notes on the story:  
> • The story is based on existing Greek myths, bearing different morals from our time. As a consequence, throughout the story there are instances of violence, such as abuse, arranged marriages and killing animals for food and tools. Some characters may die.  
> • Having had to match the characters’ personality to that of each Greek god, while retaining at least part of the gods’ family tree, some of the familial relationships accidentally took some unexpected turns. Still, in this AU, the family tree is not necessarily correspondent to that of the myths; sometimes the connections are similar but otherwise explained.
> 
>  

On the path of dirt running alongside the Ladon river and cutting through the woodlands of central Peloponnesus, a solitary traveller — too old to be described as a child and too young to be considered an adult —  trudged southward in the direction of the principal canal of the peninsula, allowing the protraction of a long journey.

The late afternoon sun rebounded on the nearby waters, bestowing to the creases formed by the current a calming, yellowish glow. To the ears of an impersonal observer, the only sounds animating the recesses of the forest would have been the chirps of the foraging sparrows and the powerful rush of the stream. Yet these simple amenities where lost to the senses of the lone passerby, for his mind had been tired by the hike and his body had not been supplied with a meal since the previous day. The one noise he was able to take in was the perpetuated grumbling of his famished stomach and the one sight laying before his eyes was the vision of a sizable bowl filled with pork bits and wine sauce.

Had he encountered a wild boar along the way, that would have been good fortune for the traveller and a tragedy for the animal, which would have, without a doubt, perished under a skilled blade to satisfy his persisting hunger. As it was not so, the concern was yet to be materially addressed.

“What would I give for a bite of my mother’s special recipe.” The youngster yawned at the green fronds above him. Despite his worn-out condition, he managed to keep the mood light, as he was not of a disposition to let himself be overwhelmed by fatigue. “She would put up a nice fire, fill the pot, take out the good dinnerware and all our little cave would smell of spices. You laugh at me, people of the trees, but I have explored the Hellenic region up to its northern borders and I have yet to set foot in an inn or in a tavern where they serve a stew as good as my mother’s!”

His vegetal public remained unfazed.

“Not that I expect you to understand.” The traveller continued. “You plants only feed upon water, while the rest of us have to look for a more solid source of sustainment. And even as far as drinking goes, we also aren’t limited to water. There is wine, although I am allowed to consume it only in moderation, and there is syrup, every so often. I will not lie to you, all this talk about beverages has really made me thirsty and now, if you will excuse me, I will take a sip from my canteen. Turn your head away, for I don’t think I have enough to share with you.”

He brought the mouth of the canteen to his lips. As the tips made contact, the traveller’s eyebrows warped into a frown. After some seconds, he moved the container away from his face and sighed heavily.

“Worse than I thought.” He said, this time more to himself. “There is not one drop left.”

In a moment of discomfort, he stood, shoulders bent, in his tracks and made an assessment of his surroundings. With big eyes and an excited smile, he prepared to recount his appraisal of the situation to the spirits of the forest.

“You see, I have nothing to fear after all. There is your trunks on my right and there is water all over on my left.” He explained as he approached the river shore. At the edge of the dry land, he crouched on the ground and dipped his fingers into the stream. “Tell me, Treefolks, is this water potable? Is this as good as the one from the springs in the mountains? Or don’t tell me, I’d rather not be biased against my only alternative.”

The young traveller trapped a mouthful of flowing water in his cupped hands and had a taste of its refreshing powers. Soon after, he closed his eyes and immersed his whole head under the river, seeking to brush the dust of the road away from his face and hair. When returned above for air, he took a moment to look at his reflection in the glistening surface. With his jet black hair, wet and flattened backwards on his scalp, he fancied himself to appear sharp and reliable for his age. He had grown up a lot in the months he had been away from home and he was growing up still. The scampering, ruffled child, behaving unconsciously to later demand the protection of his mother’s wing, was but a memory of the past.

His contemplation was interrupted when a fast movement in the water broke the stability of his mirrored image. Confused by the motion, he raised his gaze to follow its course. It was not until he stood up completely and stepped both feet into the river that he could make out a school of carps circling underwater. Most were silvery, a few were reddish and, as they danced to the sounds audible only to the creatures of the aquatic realm, they recreated for the fortunate viewer an amazing spectacle of colours.

As beautiful as they were to the sight, the youth whose eyes they had caught had a body in need of nourishment and the gathering fish happened to be the perfect thing to put an end to his hunger.

He momentarily left the river to skim the ground for some earthworms. After he got hold of a handful, he stepped, once again, knee-deep into the waters and threw the crawlers at the carps. The fish promptly flocked to the bait and he only had but to choose the one specimen which would satisfy him the most.

Right at the centre of the group, splashed its tail a peculiarly golden carp, far bigger than the others and as shiny as the sunlight bouncing all around them. The youngster orbited the eating fish until he was positioned behind the big, gold-scaled one. Silently, he sneaked closer to his intended prey and grabbed it with his hands, removing it from the water.

As soon as he had inspected his choice outside of its element, he made a run for the shore and placed the carp on a worn stole he had been storing in his satchel. The animal gaped for oxygen and flapped against the invisible bonds of air. His catcher left it to deal with its tribulations for a good minute, in order to collect wood enough to start a small fire and cook the fish.

When he returned, he rummaged again inside his bag and took out a piece of flint and another of marcasite, then he begun to strike the two stones together in the hope of generating a spark.

“I’m really sorry that this are the circumstances in which we meet.” He said to the carp, while the tinder slowly ignited. “Any other day I would have admired your beauty and let you swim with the rest of your family, but today I was too famished to leave you be. I will not lie, you were the most beautiful of all of your colony, but you were also the biggest and, had I not chosen you, I would have had to kill two of your kind. In a way, I am being merciful. But don’t worry, I’ll make your sacrifice worth it. Not only I will not complain about being hungry at least until tomorrow, but I will also dedicate your death to one of the gods. Yet which one? I hear Sara Artemis, goddess of the moon, prefers game, not deer though, those are sacred to her and she won’t allow anyone else to hunt them. Her twin brother, god of the sun, on the other hand, is jealous only for her; still he owns a whole farm and I can’t see what use he could have for a single fish. Since you are so beautiful, maybe I should sacrifice you to the goddess of beauty, Aphrodite the golden, and then yes, you could depart from the living in full knowledge that your death wasn’t merely a prelude to a good dinner.”

The branches near the tinder caught fire, but the event was outshadowed by a glamourous burst of sparkles and bubbles that occurred right next to the bundle.

When the luminous fumes dissolved, the youngster stared at the stole with incredulity, for, instead of the golden carp he had put on it, a human-bodied naked person was laying on the cloth, reclined on their side and resting their chin on their palm, long, silver-coloured hair cascading on the shoulders.

“You would sacrifice me to me?” The creature said.

The traveller jumped from the ground and promptly distanced himself from the eerie intruder.

“Who, in Zeus’ name, would you be?” He shouted.

“And why not in my name?” The creature responded, diverted. “It was so easy on your lips when you wanted me dead not a minute ago. I am Victor Aphrodite, the god of beauty.”

Unconvinced by the introduction, the traveller studied his companion. He looked older than he was, though not by much, and bore an aura of confidence and gracefulness. His eyes were as blue as the Great Sea, his wet figure continued to gleam faintly under the sun, like the rays of a wandering star.

“If you really are Aphrodite and if you really are the god of beauty,” He asked with skepticism, “how is it that I caught you in a river in Arcadia, instead of Mount Olympus, and how is it that you are swimming with the carps, instead of in a bath filled with rose petals and perfume?”

The creature identifying himself as Victor Aphrodite laughed earthily.

“I can easily answer to these questions.” He said, after materializing, much to the youngster’s astonishment, a pale pink chiton contoured with golden thread around his form. “I am swimming with the carps because they are my friends and they have come to my help in more than one occasion. They always receive my arrival with joy and eagerly join me when I come to the river to dance with them. I prefer the river to the mountain because I am the offspring of water, born from the foam of the sea, west of the island of Cyprus. As for why or how you have caught me, that is actually something that I would like to ask to you. Who is it that is smart and fast enough to be able to capture a divinity? That was a display of incredible skill. May I ask what is your name and what is your place in this world?”

“I am Yuuri Hermes.” He revealed reluctantly. “My mother is Hiroko Maia, a mountain nymph and the oldest of the Pleiades. I grew up without a father, but I’ve been told that he used to visit my mother under false pretences and that he really is Yacov Zeus, the father of gods.”

Victor hummed in approval and materialized a bowl of berries. After testing the quality of one the small fruits, he extended the bowl to Yuuri so that he could partake of the newly produced food. The latter accepted the offer, progressively more convinced of the identity of his companion due to his supernatural capabilities.

“Most people would be more impressed by the revelation.” Yuuri said.

“Which revelation?” Victor enquired. “Ah! That you are the son of Yacov. I am not surprised, Yacov Zeus has offsprings all over the region. I mean, that’s probably why we call him the father of gods. You can’t expect me to be amazed at them all. Then again, I am a divinity myself, I see one of our lot every day in the mirror.”

Yuuri let this new information sink in. He had never considered that, to some, his heritage, which he had always considered a prideful, interesting trait of his individuality, would be received short of indifference. To be perfectly honest with himself, he was a little disappointed of not having any trick left to impress his wondrous new acquaintance.

“Not that I am not amazed by you,” Victor declared with some concern in his voice, “but your bloodline has nothing to do with it.”

Yuuri blushed at the compliment. He was now sitting on the other side of the fire, opposite of Victor, head downcast and playing with a cherry stone behind his closed teeth. The deity had, in the meantime, materialized even more berries and the sparrows of the forest had joined their improvised banquet.

“Yuuri, isn’t that what you called yourself?” Victor pondered. “You’ll be disheartened to discover that Yacov Zeus recently had another son, this time with his wife, and that he has given him the same name.”

“I actually am.”

“Not as much as I am. As soon as the baby was born, Yacov commanded me to visit his palace. He had the most revolting request. ‘This is my son, Yuri Hephaestus,’ he says, ‘and, as you are the most beautiful of the gods, one day, when you will both grow up, I expect the two of you to be united in marriage. Hereby, I declare you and my son to be intended.’ I almost fainted at the statement, it is a miracle that I did not die of outrage.”

“And what will you do? Will you marry my nobler samely-named half-sibling?”

“There is no way I will do such a thing. ‘He’s an infant.’ I told the old man. ‘One day old and already the brattiest infant that ever was seen in our land. I’d rather leave Olympus and my home forever than marry that ugly ball of white linen.’”

“And what did he say?”

“He say that, in a few centuries, it wouldn’t matter whether today he was an infant or not.”

“And where did you leave it at?”

“For one, I have been in Arcadia swimming with the carps and not on Mount Olympus.”

The humorous aspects of the conversation made Yuuri inadvertently smile at his companion’s misfortune. As it is often the case with mirth, the sentiment contagiously spread to the offended god and, in the matter of seconds, they were both bent on the ground with laughter.

“Enough about me.” Victor recovered. “Do you live nearby? What were you doing unfed in the forest?”

“Of that I am not sure.” Yuuri said, looking at a boar with her cub drinking on the other side of the river; they were the firsts he had seen in the day, when their meat was no longer required. “My home used to be in a cave up on Mount Cyllene, were my mother has been residing since long before my birth. I was happy there, spending my days playing in the slopes of the mountain, but I felt like I still lacked something. Every day, I would watch the eagles plunge from the highest cliffs and disappear into the faraway sky, and I would dream that I could be, just like them, free to lift myself into the air and reach the lands of reigns foreign and unimaginable. ”

“I doubt your eagles would fly that distant from their territory.”

“That I figured out some time later, but the wish persisted.”

“When did you first act on your wish to travel around the world?”

“The very first time I left the grounds surrounding my cave,” Yuuri said with a faint blush, “was when I was but a toddler. One morning, my mother was distracted cleaning around our place, and I spotted a tortoise feeding on the grass. I was struck with inspiration and chased after it. We both moved on four legs, but I was much faster than the tortoise and, some moments later, I had already took its life and cleaned its shell. I was really proud of my accomplishment, but my deed had yet to be completed. What I still needed were two strong horns, animal skin and entrails. The horns, I acquired them from a leaping goat; the rest of the items took a while longer. I crawled for a while in search of some livestock, till at some point I learned to walk and, when I finally found a herd of cattle, I realized I had wandered away from Mount Cyllene and that I was finding myself in an unfamiliar field.

“Were you scared or excited?”

“Both, I guess, but I was more focused on my task than on my feelings. I was in, what I later discovered to be, Michele Apollo’s farm and the cattle I had decided to use to turn my idea into reality did belong to him. Unaware of the consequences of my actions, I separated fifty cows from the herd — I only needed two, the large number was due to improvisation and misjudgement — then drove them through a sandy place, making them walk backwards, so that their tracks would not be easy to follow. After hiding them in a grotto, I killed the two that I needed and sacrificed a piece of their meat to each god. When I was done with the sacrifice, I tied the skin of one of the animals over the empty tortoise shell, and then the shell and a crossbar to the two horns. With the guts, I made seven strings, one for my mother and six for her sisters, and tied them around the crossbar and at the bottom of the shell. Thus came to be a musical instrument of my invention that I decided to call the lyre.”

“You are the inventor of the lyre?” Victor stammered in disbelief.

“Have you heard of it?” Yuuri asked, his big brown eyes lucid with emotion.

“Of it and its beautiful sound. Michele Apollo owns and plays a lyre.”

“My misconduct was eventually discovered because an old man who had seen me drive the herd of cattle tattled on me. I really got in trouble that time and was brought before Zeus to be judged for my crime, the only time I have ever seen my father. I denied my involvement in the matter, but he would not believe me. It was only when Michele heard the sound of my lyre that he decided to forgive me, provided I would build a lyre for him to play as well.”

“Wow, that is quite a story.” Victor exclaimed. “I know just a day of your life and it was filled with adventure. Will you let me know of a second?”

“I’d have to think of one.”

“How about today?”

“Today I have been travelling and you are the first soul I have met.”

“Then what about yesterday?”

“Yesterday I was feeling nostalgic of the mountains and I returned to Mount Cyllene, from which I have departed in the early morning.”

“Have you been travelling by horse?”

“No, on foot.”

“You walked more than fifty miles in less than a day?”

“I did, but it’s an easy distance and I run for part of the journey.”

“An easy distance do you call it? You really are a fast one.” Victor determined.

“So they have told me.” Yuuri smiled.

“And did you find your mother in good health?”

“To tell the truth, I haven’t approached her.” Yuuri said, fiddling with his sandals. “It’s been a while since I last talked to her, I prefer to watch her from afar. In the past, I have behaved in ways that brought disappointment to her heart and I feel like I have yet to become the person I want to be, the person I want her to know me as.”

“I bet your mother would be glad to see you regardless.”

“Maybe so, but I’d rather wait for a while longer. I’ve been doing a lot of growing up as of lately; not only my body develops at an incredibly fast rate, I’ve also been thinking about my past and my future. How will I let my heritage influence my life? Am I a god? And, if so, of what? You are older than me, do you know anything about becoming an adult? About being recognised as a deity?”

“Not much.” Victor admitted. “I emerged from the sea almost fully-grown, age at an incredibly slow rate and came to be adored across kingdoms within days of my birth. They say that my beauty is unparalleled.”

“A claim within reason.” Yuuri agreed.

“Your approval of my looks is much appreciated” Victor smiled and then his mouth was overtaken by a mischievous grin. “To reward you for your devotion to my cult, I will present you with a gift. If you ever feel, once again, nostalgic of the mountains, but do not wish to face the challenge of Mount Cyllene, I will allow you to take refuge in my empty palace on Mount Olympus.”

Yuuri laughed at the joke.

“I’ve only lived in a cave and on the road.” He replied. “I think I would lose myself in palace.”

“The offer stands.” Victor concluded. “But now it’s your turn to make me an offer. I served you food during dinner and you should serve entertainment after. Have you brought your lyre in this travel?”

“It is in my satchel.”

“Then take it out, I’d like to hear you play one of your pieces.”

Yuuri hurried to retrieve the instrument and, after a minute of tuning, began to perform a pastoral melody of his own production. Had his eyes not being closed and had he been able to look at the one member of his audience, he would have seen how the music was affecting the state of his mind by the fashion in which all his features transformed from curious to ecstatic.

The piece came to an end and was soon followed by another, more tender than the first, yet lead by a distinctively flavoured underlying rhythm, which matched the oranges of the setting sun.

Yuuri open in eyes when he heard the sound of a metallic rattle join into the tune. Victor had risen from his stole and started suavely pacing and rocking to the lyre’s music. A golden anklet had appeared to decorate one of his feet and the small plates attached to the chain clanked soothingly between each other at his every step.

Within a dozen beats, elegant movements of hands and arms were added and, eventually, soft jumps and gentle turns completed the execution, turning the spontaneous performance into a proper, skill-sustained dance.

If Victor had been mesmerized by Yuuri’s abilities as a musician, Yuuri’s mind had been utterly blown by the beauty of Victor’s moves.

When the second piece was over, Victor collapsed on the grass, shaking his companion away from the daze that had conquered him.

The god stretched his legs and loosened his weary toes. It was at that moment that Yuuri spotted two exquisite golden circles hanging from the anklet, along with the rattling plates. Each was equipped with a pearl, pink in one and pale blue in the other.

“Do you find my feet interesting?” Victor asked, having noticed the object of his attention.

Yuuri found himself inhibited by having been caught only for a few instants.

“I was just amazed by the fact that the god of beauty would be willing to soil his fingernails for a dance.” He retorted effectively.

“Your words hurt me, Yuuri.” Said Victor with fake outrage. “Are you saying my feet are dirty?”

“Maybe I am.” Yuuri teased, then paused. “Those are very nice pearls on your anklet.”

“Aren’t they?” Victor said excitedly. “Sometimes I wear them as charms, some others as earrings, some others more as rings. They came from the scallop shell on which I travelled to land after my birth. When I arrived ashore, the Horai dressed me in golden garments and, after they saw the pearls, they told me that the pink one symbolized love, which would play a huge role in my life, and that the blue one symbolized life, which the sea had given me.”

“Life and love?” His companion mused. “The blue one, though, it also reminds me of the skies around my mountain.”

“Is that what life means to you?”

“I guess…” Yuuri sighed. “But I can’t really imagine my life being tied to your dirty foot.”

“Yuuri!!!” The other protested.

“I bet they are also ticklish.”

With that Yuuri launched on an assault to his divine soles.

Victor screamed and laughed, rolling around in an attempt to free himself from his attacker. He begged for mercy, while his entire chiton collected the filth lying about in the wild terrain. At last, relief came, not from Yuuri’s benevolence, but from the light and roar of a thunder crashing down to Earth, no more than a dozen feet away from their position, which scared the two playmates into immobility.

“I think he found me, your father.” Victor murmured. “The lightning is his symbol and his weapon. He is very angry with me, I have to go.”

As they looked into each other’s eyes, still shaken by the nearby strike, a light rain started falling on the forest.

“Come with me, I’ll turn you into a fish.” Victor said. ”You won’t be alright in this weather.”

“I can’t, I have somewhere I am going after all.” Yuuri answered.

“I see, but I still don’t want you to risk your health.”

“I am fast, I will arrive to next village before the storm can catch up with me.”

“Then start as soon as you can.” Victor smiled. “And remember me and my throes when you’ll be safe under the covers of civilization. Talk to me through the star of the morning and the star of the evening, the latter of which you may see an soon as you leave the woods.”

The god stood on his feet only to jump on the river a moment later and let his semblance morph back into that of the golden carp which had earlier been lifted from the waters.

Half an hour later, Yuuri stood outside a tavern, under the canopy of the building, appraising the value of the few golden plates and the blue-pearled ring that he had surreptitiously removed from Victor’s anklet during their playful battle. They were worth more than enough to live comfortably for a couple of years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are reading my fic, it would mean a lot to me if you let me know in the comments!


	2. Five Days in Olympia

The state of the weather was such that, for that night, Yuuri, despite being used to sleep under the caprices of the open sky, felt compelled to seek refuge inside a sheltered establishment.

Escaping from the heart of the storm, he had arrived, earlier than intended, in the town of Olympia. It was a settlement of modest size, whose only claims to fame were a small temple dedicated to his father Zeus and a quadrennial festival held in honour of the same god, during which he was expected to make an appearance to bless his worshippers. The event would commence the following morning and Yuuri had travelled in haste, across half of Peloponnesus, with the aim of meeting with a friend and participating to the celebration.

As a gush of wind hurled its way past his shoulders, howling through the street like a spirit of the night, Yuuri decided to enter the tavern outside of which he had been standing, confident that a splinter of gold, expediently detached from one of the plates he had taken from Victor Aphrodite, would allow him to bargain for access to one of the upstairs rooms.

When he closed the door behind him, everyone in the hall turned their heads to inspect the newcomer. He was used to this treatment when he travelled among humans, whose young offspring was seldom allowed to wander alone in the darkest hours, especially when visiting a foreign town. His juvenile appearance had always been hard to conceal, even if that was less so with every month that passed, and he could very well see that only few people in the room where shorter than him and all decidedly older.

“Come here, young man.” Said the man behind the counter. “Have you come to get a taste of my wine?”

Yuuri approached the host under the stares of the other patrons.

“I’ll have either milk or fresh water. And a room to rest myself.” Yuuri answered, followed by the roaring laugh of the local’s crowd. From one corner of the room, a voice shouted to put some beer into the poor lamb’s beverage.

“I can give you some water.” The host said, filling a small cup in large vase by the wall and handing it to Yuuri with false reverence. “And who would I be renting this room to and for how long?

“You would be renting that to me, Yuuri Hermes of Mount Cyllene and just for the night.” Yuuri told the man.

“So are you in town for the festival?”

“Yes and to see both a friend and my father.”

“Oh, I would have never guessed you had a father.” Another round of laughs boomed through the tavern. “But I guess some men like to make children to never look after them.”

Yuuri kept quiet and took a sip of water.

“About the room,” The man continued, “with what do you intend to pay?”

“With a piece of gold.” Yuuri responded, causing even more merriment among their audience.

“And do you have it with you, this piece of gold, or are we supposed to ask it to your father?”

“I have it here in my fist.”

At that, Yuuri opened the palm of his left hand and showed to the host the splinter of gold, who took it from his hand to examine it to the light of a lamp and then pressed it with his fingernail.

“By Zeus, I believe this is the real deal.” He shouted to everyone’s amazement. “This cannot be yours, you dress like a shepherd. You have stolen this, haven’t you?”

“It’s mine.” Yuuri declared. “I found it on the road.”

“Then I can keep it.”

The youth and the host stared at each other for a few moments, until the eyes of the latter fell on a lace hanging on the other’s neck.

“And what is that shiny thing attached to that chord?” The man asked, pointing at the blue-pearled golden ring he had taken along with the plates.

“It’s a family heirloom.” He answered. “My mother gave it to me.”

“You little liar, as if I believe you have any mother. You stole it.” He shouted, grasping the lace and tearing it off from his neck, much to Yuuri’s shock. The host held the ring out of reach and repeated on its metal the same examination to which the golden splinter had been subjected. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll keep this and you can have the room.”

“I can’t let you have that.” Yuuri growled behind closed teeth. “It is precious to me for very personal reasons.”

“This are the terms. I’ll keep the ring and the splinter, and you can choose whether you’d rather accept my offer and sleep in a bed or whether you’d rather go outside and spend the night curled in the mud.”

Accompanied by the chuckles of the patrons, Yuuri jumped repeatedly to get a hold of the ring, but he was too short make it to it. The expressions on the human faces and the annoying screeching noises coming out of their mouths were taking a toll on his nerves.

For a moment, he felt like crying out of desperation and he might have, had not a powerful howl, loaded with horror and stronger than then wind, been heard through the wooden walls of the tavern, making his whole body freeze on the spot.

“You hear that, boy,” said a woman sitting at a nearby table, “that is the monster that will turn you into pieces as soon as you go outside.”

The laughs grew more raucous and their noise became intolerable. Yuuri took his cup and trashed it towards the wall behind the host, making everyone turn in the direction of the thrown object. Taking advantage of the distraction, he climbed on the counter and grasped the ring, then, as quickly as he could manage, he run out of the building into the rainy street.

It was not that it was cold outside, for the night was one of summer, but the air was wet and the wind sharp. Moreover, the terrifying howls could be heard louder than before. Maybe there really was a monster set out to devour him.

He run up the road, without a destination, without knowing whether he was running for his life. He run until he heard a soft voice calling for his name.

“Yuuri!” the voice kept shouting. “Yuuri come here!” 

He turned to see a girl, who he had known to be about fifteen, run towards him and signalling him to stop.

“Yuuko!” He shouted back at her, rushing in her direction.

“Yuuri! What are you doing outdoors in this weather? Come inside my house.”

Once they were safe under the roof of her habitation, Yuuko brought him close to the fire and introduced him to her parents. As soon as they were comfortably seated, they began to banter just as two good friends would after not having seeing each other for long.

“I didn’t expect you until tomorrow,” she exclaimed overjoyed. “but when I heard someone screaming outside, I look through the window and, although I could make out little in the rain, I recognised you instantly, for you are the faster runner I have ever met.”

“It is fortunate that you’ve found me.” Yuuri admitted. “They wouldn’t let me stay at the inn.”

“Then you shall stay here with my family, where you’ll always be welcomed. But look at how much you’ve grow, I bet you are at least one palm taller.”

Yuuri and Yuuko had met some months earlier in the forest, where he had been travelling and she had lost her way home. He had helped her find the path back to Olympia and, in the time they had spent together, they had discovered to share a passionate love for running and developed a fast friendship. He had soon confessed to her on the score of his troubles and his divine heritage, while she had entertained him with stories of the commons and life in the farmland. Before separating, they had decided to encounter again at the next Olympic festival.

“Yuuko, what on earth is that creature howling in the night. I was terrified out of my wits.”

“Nobody knows for sure.” She answered. “It was brought yesterday in a cage inside Zeus’ temple by a group of his priests and it has been howling ever since. We dare not enquire about the god’s affairs.”

The moans continued through the night and the morning, when Yuuko lead Yuuri through the main street in order to reach the big square at the centre of the town, where Yacov Zeus’ temple was located and the celebrations would be concentrated.

There was feasting and there was dancing. Yuuri and Yuuko pranced together, until a boy of the same age as Yuuko, which she later called by the name of Takeshi, jerked Yuuri to the ground, lamenting that the girl should dance with him instead, making the contended maiden lose her patience.

The programs continued until when, at noon, the crowd reunited before the temple to wait for the arrival of their god. The high priest announced the entrance of Zeus with a formulaic speech, at the end of which, the deity manifested before the temple’s doors with an explosion of air blasts and thunders.

His father was a stout, balding man who looked nothing like him and Yuuri wasn’t sure how to feel about seeing him for the second time. Yuuko placed her hand on his shoulder to reassure him.

What astonished Yuuri more than he could have imagined was when a second person reticently walked through the door and joined his father’s side. Even with the hair hidden by a veil and the eyes tired and downcast, he could still recognise by the beautiful features and the pink pearl adorning his right hand that he was looking at none other than Victor Aphrodite. The god of beauty was announced to the people as a personal guest of Zeus.

The festivities reprised under the auspicious benediction of the two gods, who remained to supersede the event by a throned platform at the side of the square. Yacov Zeus watched his people with benevolence, surrounded by an air of majestic glory. Victor, on the contrary, looked exhausted and miserable; from his expression and posture, the golden bracelets hanging from his wrists and laying on the armrests could as well been mistaken for golden chains.

Yuuri recounted to Yuuko of his encounter with the god but the previous day and of the diatribe between the two divinities. He wondered whether Victor had somehow been forced to accompany Zeus to the festival and what could possibly have persuaded the rebellious god to spend time with his potential father in law.

What more, he noticed that the persisting howling seemed to have a distressing effect on Victor. Every time the wails of the creature prevailed upon the racket of the crowd, he would flinch and look at the back of the temple with something akin to guilt.

The possibility that the mysterious monster was somehow connected to Victor raised Yuuri’s curiosity.

He excused himself from Yuuko in order to investigate the nature of the howling, leaving her in Takeshi’s company, with whom she had in the meantime reconciled.

Crawling on the ground and hiding behind bushes, he managed to get past the guards and arrive under a window in the back of the temple, from which the moans could be heard stronger. After climbing on the bricks, he hid in the alcove of the opening and spied the inside the structure from a fissure in the window’s wooden panels.

He could hardly retain a gasp when he saw the beast for the first time. It was a large canine with black eyes, the likes of which he had never seen in all of his travels. Its tongue hanged from its mouth, bringing to mind the picture of a famished animal, and its fur was brown and curly, making the creature look like a cross between a wolf and a sheep.

After the initial astonishment, Yuuri could see that the beast did not look aggressive and that it was, albeit a bit weird, no monster at all. As silently as he could, he broke the lock keeping the window shut and entered the room, closing the panels behind him. The room he found himself in was a dark prison with only one other door, possibly guarded on the other side.

As Yuuri descended on the ground, the creature trotted in his direction to meet him at the bottom. That’s when he realized that there was not one, but two of the species. The second wolf-sheep was considerably smaller than the other and a tad redder; both of them were, nevertheless, equally affectionate.

Around the bigger one’s neck was a collar decorated with a golden scallop shell, the symbol of Aphrodite. He remembered how his mother would tell him that, among all the breeds of dogs known to mankind, there was one so beautiful that its only specimen was owned by the goddess of beauty. Now that he was closer to the two creatures, he could see that they could indeed be classified as dogs and that they could indeed be described as beautiful by an accustomed eye.

Suddenly the connection between the imprisonment of the dogs and the presence of Victor at the festival became clear to Yuuri. Yacov Zeus must have captured his pets in order to force Victor to accept his son’s hand in marriage and that was the reason why the god had consented to come to the festival as his father’s guest.

The realization filled Yuuri with an intense rage and he felt compelled to take action against the injustice. Before proceeding with his impulsively formed plan, he made sure to stealthily break open the lock of the cell, which had been functional against the two animals, but worthless once confronted with his rogue skills. Cracking the door open just a little, he could see that their room was directly connected with the main hall of the temple, which had access to the square of the festival. The area was watched by several priests in liturgical apparel and a number of armed soldier.

Done this, he took a ball of straw from the small bedding which had been laid out for the dogs to sit on and set the material on fire using his two stones. When the flame had sufficiently grown, he threw the ball out of the window, causing the bushes outside to start burning as well, filling the cell with smoke.

While the fire provided a diversion for the guards, the expanding smoke provided the invisibility necessary to escape through the temple’s entrance. He grabbed the little dog and instructed the bigger one to follow him; in a few seconds, they were already breathing the open air.

They immediately met with Victor, who had started running towards the temple as soon as the fire had been noticed. The god threw himself on the ground in order to hug the two dogs and, with his face buried in their fur, he began to cry tears of relief.

“To whom do I owe the life of my darlings?” He asked, getting his answer when his eyes fell onto person standing before him. “Yuuri is that you? We meet again so soon and in such circumstances! How could I ever thank you? I would give you something of mine, but you have already taken one of my pearls!”

Before Yuuri could respond, Victor had already attracted a crowd around them.

“Honour this youth, people of Olympia,” he cried, “for he saved my dogs from this unfortunate fire! Honour him!”

As the crowd cheered for him, Yuuri could see Victor and the dogs running away from the festival, taking advantage of the confusion, possibly heading towards the river where he supposed they could take the semblances of fish and hide their trail. For once, he was the one being used as a diversion.

Late in the evening, Yuuri was reminiscing the events of the day, laying with eyes closed in an improvised bed made of one of Yuuko’s rugs. He thought about Victor’s quick feet as he disappeared into the woods and about Yacov Zeus’ anger when he discovered what had just occurred. His father had not acknowledged his presence and he had made no effort to approach him.

In the morning, he would depart for a new adventure, leaving the friends he had made behind him. With Yuuko, he had agreed that they should meet each other again no later than the next festival and he intended to make good on that promise.

His reveries were interrupted by the sound of soft paws trotting about the room. Before he knew, a little beast had jumped on his chest and started licking his face. The animal came with a message attached to the collar.

_“To Yuuri Hermes, who once offended me by caching me in the Ladon river, but saved me from the anger of Zeus the day after._

_The youngest and smallest of my dogs I’ve had for less than a month and is already tired of living his life by my side. He craves for travels and explorations, which I believe is why he has chosen you as a companion._

_He has yet to be given a name, so choose wisely and beautifully._

_I owe you my current happiness and I hope that one day our paths will cross again._

_Victor Aphrodite.”_

Yuuri stared alternatingly both at the letter and at the small beast above him.

“If you are to be named beautifully,” he said to the dog, “I have no other choice but to call you Victor.”

When Yuuri fell asleep that night, holding tight to his new friend’s fur, he knew that in the morning he would not be departing alone.

 

Yuuri Hermes did not return to Olympia till the day of the very next festival, four years later. The last phase of his youth had been spent travelling across the world, in regions he had already visited, in regions that were new to him and in regions that were unknown to the people of Hellas, but never he had forgotten about the eventful day in which he had danced among the peasants, started a fire in the temple of Zeus and received his dog as a gift from the god Aphrodite himself.

The town hadn’t changed much; there was the tavern which treated him with unkindness and tried to take advantage of his age, there was the road which lead to the main square and there was the temple. In a few hours, the sun would rise with the blessing of Michele Apollo and the streets would be filled with the sounds of drums and cymbals and treaded on by the flow of villagers directed to the sacred house of his father. Yuuri would pay a visit to his effigy while Olympia remained asleep.

Knowing that he would not be allowed to enter the temple alone and before its opening hours, he crept inside the priests’ dormitory to steal the key of the building’s backdoor. On his way to the custodian’s room, he saw a light flooding into the corridor from one of its sides and, passing by the gap, he overheard a group of men carrying an animated conversation, never raising their tone above cautious unintelligible whispers. Unconcerned with their troubles, he sneaked past the voices until he reached his destination. In the custodian’s cabinet, the keys had been left unguarded, rendering his mission way easier to accomplish than he had anticipated.

The temple’s hall was filled with darkness, only dispelled for a few foots by the lamp Yuuri had brought along with him. By its walls, he could see trinkets, tools and food piled as offerings over dedicated tables. At the centre, stood a medium-sized statue, with head and hands worked out of stone and a softer wooden, body draped in cloth.

He sat on the steps at the bottom of the figure and stared at a black spot to let his thoughts fall into order.

“I have heard many contrasting opinions on your character.” He said to the void before him. “To some you are the most powerful of gods and the worthy leader of the pantheon, to others you are an undeserving usurper. In Peloponnesus, your name can incite love and fear in the hearts of humans, yet, in distant lands, your name bears no meaning. To me you are many a person, but, above of all, you are an absent father, who conceived me under another name and another skin, and then forgot about me and my mother, as if we never existed.

We have met twice. The first I was short of an infant, not yet able to discern what was good and what was bad, and you were ready to judge me for an unintended mischief, without even once acknowledging me as you child. I was saved only by the fascination of an unknown half-brother for one of my inventions and, despite the lyre having rapidly become one of the most praised instruments in the region, you have made no effort to be acquainted with me.

The second time, I’m not sure you even realized I was the one to damage your temple and thwart your plans of tying the beautiful Aphrodite to another son of yours. I did all that under your nose, so expert are your eyes at avoiding the sight of me. Even as I was greeted by the crowd as the saviour of the two sacred dogs, you were too distracted to notice who I was and what I had done. One of the dogs you had been keeping imprisoned is now my constant companion and friend. I left it sleeping in a bush outside because he has no interest in coming inside this temple ever again.

I have grown a lot since then, faster than most, and, now that I’ve finally become an adult, my mind is clearer that it has ever been and I have a much higher sense of dignity. So, I am here to say that I haven’t come to Olympia to pay an homage to you. Even if your blood runs through my veins and your divine powers have affected my abilities, we are nothing like each other and, from now on, I have decided that I’ll care for you just as much as you care for me, which is to say I won’t care for you at all. I am here to visit a friend who lives in town and I attend to the festival, not because it is dedicated to you, but because the event is an important part of my relationship with this person. When I exit this storage room, I will not look back and I will not think of you. You need not be my father and I need not be your son.”

Those were the last word Yuuri spoke to the god that day, determined to spend what remained of it in a much more cherished company.

When daylight came, he walked with his dog up to Yuuko’s house, anxious to reunite with his old friend. He recognized the house in which the girl had once welcomed in during the storm and knocked politely at the door. To his surprise, when the door was opened, it was not Yuuko’s sweet smiling face who appeared behind it, but her mother’s.

“Are you looking for someone, young man?” The middle-aged woman asked.

“Indeed, I am looking for your daughter.” Yuuri answered.

“My daughter?” She exclaimed. “And why are you looking for her? Who are you?”

“I’m Yuuri Hermes, I’ve lodged in your home during last festival. Do you not remember?”

“Ah, now that you tell me your name I certainly remember you. You are the kid who helped Yuuko returning to us when she was lost in the woods. Yuuko used to talk a lot about you back then, but we haven’t seen you in so long that I had some trouble placing your face. Unfortunately she’s not living here anymore, she has married almost a year ago and now she stays with her husband a bit further up the road.”

Yuuri was taken aback by the discovery. It wasn’t like he had fancied himself engaged to the girl or even in love with her, but he had always remembered her memory with fondness and he had assumed that, one day, he’d have the chance to get to know her better and see if that sentiment could eventually transform into a deeper one.

Following her mother’s directions, he started looking for Yuuko’s new house. His search came to an end when the girl herself spotted him outside of her habitation as she was fixing the last decorations in preparation for the celebrations.

“Yuuri!” She cried, walking up to him with a large bundle of flowers still in her arms, delight showing in her big brown eyes,  “I can’t believe you are really here, I did not expect to ever see you again! You have grown so much, you are so much taller than me!”

“Yuuko, what do you mean you did not expect to ever see me again?” He asked perplexed. “We had promised to meet each other again on the day of the festival.”

“Yet I haven’t heard from you for many years and I had started to believe you had forgotten about our town. Could you not in all this time find a way to send a message?”

The reproach filled Yuuri with guilt. He had had the means to contact Yuuko, but it hadn’t occurred to him that she would find it necessary. He had somehow though that in four years’ time not much would be altered in their life, aside from their ages, and in that he had been mistaken. Yuuko had grown into a remarkably beautiful young woman and he should not have been surprised to find her married and well past the interests of adolescence.

As he paused to take in the changes in her appearance, he notice a sizeable protrusion in her body, which had been hidden by the flowers she was carrying.

“Oh, you see that I’m pregnant.” She smiled, touching her stomach. “According to the physician, I’m expecting more than one baby.”

Yuuri remained silent for a few seconds.

“May Sara Artemis and Lilia Hera assist you during their delivery.” He finally said, returning her smile.

They entered the house and Yuuri learned that Yuuko had married Takeshi, the boy who had been jealous of his presence during last festival. This year, Takeshi was much friendlier than he had previously been and invited Yuuri to spend the day with their family.

As Yuuko felt harsh movements would pose a risk to her pregnancy, she preferred not to join the dances and Yuuri and Takeshi danced together instead.

Noon came with the announcement by the high priest that, for the first time in many generations, Yacov Zeus would not be appearing at the festival. The news was ill received by the god’s most fervent supporters and even the less devout Olympians bemoaned the breaking of a decades long tradition. The rumour was that Zeus had been highly offended by the fire that had marred the back of his temple four years earlier and that he would only return to attend the festival if its premises were refurnished with considerable offerings.

Yuuri connected the exceptional circumstances with the agitation he had perceived while passing through the priests’ dormitory during the dark hours and then proceeded to have a splendid day, not feeling for a moment the absence of the deity.

In the late afternoon, their party was forced to return home when Yuuko’s waters broke. The midwife was called and so were the soon-to-be gran-parents. The men waited outside of the bedroom while the women worked and, before the night was over, Yuuko’s mother opened the door to reveal the birth of three healthy little girls.

A few hours later, Yuuri reckoned that his permanence in the house would be in the way of the enlarged family’s activities and prepared to say his goodbyes. He promised Yuuko that, not only they would see each other during next festival, but also that, would he not be able to visit before then, he would make sure to write them a letter.

 

The two friends kept a limited correspondence, as Yuuri’s location varied frequently and he rarely travelled in the proximity of Peloponnesus, nevertheless, when he returned for the third time to Olympia, Yuuko and Takeshi welcomes him in their house as if he was part of their family.

Their children had been called Aglaia, Thalia and Euphrosyne and were now, at four years of age, already the most untameable, hyperactive children he had ever met in all of his voyages. They made him wonder whether he had given as much trouble to his mother in his earlier days as they were giving it to their parents.

The morning festivities proceeded as expected and everybody in their group had a good time eating and dancing till their bodies could sustain the activities. The high priest came forward several times to reassure the celebrating villagers that Yacov Zeus would make, without doubt, an appearance that year and that the double amount of valuables they had deposited in the temple had been enough to subside the god’s anger about the eight-years-old incident.

When noon arrived, the crowd rejoiced. The high priest’s claims were not, after all, without foundation and incredibly, yet just has had happened times and times prior to the present spectacle, Zeus manifested himself with the force of a thunderbolt before the temple in Olympia’s main square, exhibiting a power possessed only by the mightiest of gods.

At the priest’s request, the villagers performed a round of prayers as an apology to their divine protector for the specific displeasure of the burning temple and other generic acts of disobedience. Yuuri soundlessly mouthed through the litanies, in part because he did not wish to make his friends the targets of eventual repercussions, had he been caught refusing to join in the act of praying, and in part because he felt responsible for having caused the one disturbance which imposed the hassle on all other Olympians.

Midway through the last appeal to forgiveness, a section of the crowd stopped repeating the high priest’s words. This section soon grew to be larger and more noticeable, just has did the gleaming dot in the sky which had been distracting it from the prayer. In the span of a few moments, the dot’s size increased enough for it to be recognised as a flying object, nearing at a considerable speed.

Taken by the panic, the crowd abandoned the chants and started dispersing away from the square, to which the travelling shape seemed to be headed. The few cries of fear transformed into murmurs of awe, as the object revealed to be a golden chariot lead by four swans, which slowed down by circling in the air around the square and finally parked in a clear area just before the spot in which the high priest was positioned, awfully close to the proximity of Yacov Zeus.

At the reins of the chariot stood, in all of his splendour, the beautiful Victor Aphrodite.

Yuuri hadn’t seen him since the day of his first festival and very little had heard of him thereafter. His life and whereabouts had become quite a mystery in Hellas in the past eight years. It was known that the god had long abandoned his palace on Mount Olympus due of a strife he had had with Yacov Zeus, but it was not known to where the divinity had relocated as of lately, nor what he had been up to.

Despite the magnificence and constancy of his beauty, Yuuri couldn’t help but notice the changes that the years had produced on Victor. His silvery hair had been cut short, styled with a fringe which descended at an angle like silk over his left eye, and his body had grown in height and constitution, marking the passage into full adulthood of the one who had been a youth since birth. The pink long-skirted chiton had been replaced by a shorter, similarly coloured robe, which exposed more of his muscles and allowed him more freedom of movement. Attached to the pin holding the cloth together, Yuuri spotted the pearled ring of which Yuuri carried the twin in his satchel.

Although the crowd had, at first, made a lot of clamour about the god’s unexpected entrance, every voice in town immediately ceased to speak as soon as Victor Aphrodite started to.

“I came here, in this day of festivity, because I have something to say to the god patron of this sanctuary, something that can no long remain unsaid.” He shouted to the people, then turned his eyes towards Zeus. “Yacov, when I hatched from the Cyprian ocean as a young girl, you took me under your protection and for that I was grateful. You looked after me as father would look after his own child, you welcomed me in your home and gave me a palace of my own. Under your guidance, I developed my powers way beyond the possibilities of an unschooled deity and I am now revered as one of the most respected gods in the pantheon. Yet, at some point, you stopped treating me as a pupil and started treating me as property.

Eight years ago, you summoned me to your presence to inform me of my engagement to your new born son, expecting me to comply with your wishes without consideration for my feelings and preferences, taking it upon you to make choices which should have been mine alone. Your stubbornness drove me away from my house and the company of my friends; it forced me to live in secret, continually searching for a place that your all-seeing eyes would not be able to reach. I refuse to endure this treatment any longer.

Today, I come to you as a man, ready to fight for his freedom, determined to settle this score forever. At sunset, meet me on these grounds in a game of wrestling. Be the Olympians the witnesses and the judges of the strengths of our arms and our arguments.”

In the few moments passing between Aphrodite’s challenge and Zeus’ answer, no person dared to break the silence that had filled the square.

“Victor,” the father of gods finally said with barely concealed anger, “you are never going to be able to defeat me.”

With that declaration, the challenge was considered accepted and Zeus disappeared from the town accompanied by just as many effects as he had used in his coming.

Yuuri watched as Victor Aphrodite collected his breath with his eyes almost closed and, as he watched him raise his head once again and stare at the temple with determination, he was taken by the urge to reach his old acquaintance and offer him courage for the fight to come.

He barged through the crowd until he arrived next to the chariot. One hand holding tight to his satchel, he extended the other to get a grasp of Victor’s robe between his fingers, with the aim of gaining his attention.

The god turned his head disoriented and with no trace of recognition in his face.

“A prayer for me?” Victor asked, a hint of numbness expertly hidden under studied kindness.

Yuuri retreated immediately, realizing that he had in fact not been recognised and feeling the hurt of it. Even if they had not seen each other for several years, the few hours spent with Victor had always held a special place in his heart. The memory of his graceful dancing and of his strong personality had had a major influence over his own craft and way of living. The name of the dog who had, since then, never left his side was a constant reminder of the god’s cordiality and generosity. Still, the god himself did not remember who he was.

In a haze of pain and feelings of rejection, he withdrew from the chariot, the crowd and the centre of the festival, until he found himself in a familiar tavern, ready to order a cup of milk to bolster his mood.

“Hard to see someone drinking milk in a tavern at the edge of town, during the day of the festival.” A deep suave voice hummed from his side. “If you are going through some serious problem, you are going to need something far stronger than that.”

The voice belonged to a young fellow with short, blond hair and heavily lashed green eyes, sitting in his stool with the confidence of a man fully aware of the appeal of his physique.

“Your next drink is on me,” he said as he raised his hand to order him a cup of wine, “and my name is Christophe Dionysus.”

At first, Yuuri was reluctant to engage in conversation with a stranger, but soon the fragility of his state of mind prevailed and he let himself be talked into far more drinking than he was used to. Several rounds of wine later, he and his new friend had become drunk enough to bond over the hilarious retellings of their troubles.

“I once told Yuuko,” Yuuri was saying, “that I wouldn’t eat fish because that is sacred to Aphrodite and sometimes Aphrodite disguises as a carp and I wouldn’t want to accidentally eat Aphrodite. And she… and she told me she had never heard of it. Any of it. You see, I thought I knew Victor — the god, not the dog — but I don’t know him at all and he certainly has no idea of who I am.”

He rested his forehead on the counter, thoughts running wild, and his companion bent close to him.

“Yuuri Hermes, my trusted soul, I’m about to let you on on a very big secret.” He murmured in his ear.

“I won’t tell anyone.” Yuuri murmured back.

“I am a god.” Christophe whispered, in the lowest tone possible. “Yacov Zeus is my father and I came in town in the hope of seeing him, because I‘ve never seen him before, but then, at the last minute, I decided for some reason that I did not want to see him after all, so I came here looking for a drink.”

Yuuri started giggling uncontrollably.

“Do not laugh at me!” His companion reprimanded him.

“I am not laughing at you,” Yuuri managed to say, between one laugh and the other, “I am laughing at us. Yacov Zeus is my father too, which means that you are my half-brother!”

When Yuuri woke up in the early hours of the morning, those were the last events he could remember.

Dionysus was gone and the town was still celebrating; apparently, Victor Aphrodite had beaten Zeus and showed to the world the validity of his arguments, freeing himself from the god’s tyrannical control. Yuuri was sorry to have missed the game due to his drunkenness; whether that was for the missed opportunity of seeing Victor’s well-toned limbs flexing under the setting sun or that of seeing the look of his father’s face once he realized he been defeated was still to be ascertained.

 

Another four years passed and Yuuri Hermes returned, once again, to Olympia in order to attend its renowned festival, just as the twelve-years-old tradition established.

A number of adventures had livened up his travels since the last time he had set foot in the town and, to his surprise, the people of Hellas had started to recognize his name and attribute to its bearer divine characteristics, even if few could associate the increasingly famous identity with his appearance.

He had always made a point of not listening to the stories circulating about him, fearing of stumbling on a negative review of his character or of becoming aware of some widespread falsities which he had not the means to disprove. Still, once or twice, he had happened to hear the titles under which his retellings were performed. There was 'Hermes and the Lyre', 'Hermes and Argos', 'Yuuri and the sheep-dog' and 'Yuuri and Victor', the latter of which he presumed to be either another ode to his peculiar animal companion or a recounting of his saving of Aphrodite’s dogs from the fire.

This year in Olympia, there were enough stares and fingers pointed at him that, after half-an-hour of being in town, he decided to hide his face under a fake beard that he had acquired in one of his journeys. That year, a lot of alterations were also being made to the structure of the festival.

To re-invoke the divine challenge that had shaken the main square four years earlier, the emancipation of Aphrodite and his pacification with Yacov Zeus, the high priest had declared that a set of games would be held in the afternoon of the festival, comprising of a wrestling tournament and a footrace. Takeshi and Yuuko would compete in the two games respectively, leaving their three girls under Yuuri’s care for the best part of the event.

“You are such a fast runner, Yuuri.” Commented Aglaia, who had now, along with her sisters, reached eight years of age. “How is it that you won’t run against our mother in the footrace?”

“That’s because I am the offspring of a god and I have supernatural speed.” He told her with calm. “I would likely win and it wouldn’t be fair to the other contestants.”

“One day I am going to become a god too.” Said Thalia, looking at the sky and adopting a stance of dominance. “That way, I am never going to lose a fight.”

“You don’t need divine powers to win a fight.” Yuuri explained. “Sometimes the strength of your convictions is enough to prevail against your enemy and that is how heroes are born.”

“Still, I bet you wouldn’t trade being a god for being a human hero.” Euphrosyne retorted, supported by her sisters’ hummed agreement. “It is far too convenient to be immortal.”

“I’m do not know whether I am immortal or not yet, I’ve not had the occasion to discover it.”

The triplets then proceeded to test Yuuri’s immortality and patience by playing out several scenario which might have ended up procuring a less agile person substantial injuries, until Yuuko came to notice her daughters’ behaviour and paused her preparatory workout to scold them.

“Are you sure you want to keep that beard and hide your dog in the satchel for the whole day?” She asked once she had regained control of the triplets. “Many athletes would be glad to know you are watching over the arena.”

“How so?” He asked, perplexed.

“They would be honoured by you divine presence.” She answered in seriousness.

“If I am a god,” Yuuri muttered, “I am not an important one. I won’t be missed by the athletes.”

“Maybe you do not have a place in the pantheon, but you are important to us in Olympia.” She sighed, just before returning to her exercises. Yuuri was left to ponder on how the saving two dogs had produced such a long-lasting sympathy in the people of the town and about the connection between the human and the canine species.

Yacov Zeus manifested at noon in his usual glory and sanctioned the beginning of the games. At his side, Victor Aphrodite came forward as his personal guest, this time escorted by his remaining dog and lightened up by a radiant expression, visibly eager to attend to the festival.

At some point, in the interval between two matches of wrestling, Victor the dog escaped from the satchel and run towards his former master. When Aphrodite found the little ball of fur rasping at his feet, he cried with joy, even more so when he realized that, if the dog was at the competition, Yuuri Hermes must have been standing somewhere in the audience. He started calling for his name, under the gaze of all villagers, who soon united to the chant in the hope that the two gods would meet in their presence. Yuuri remained hidden out of a mixture of embarrassment and stubbornness, still offended that the deity had not recognized him during their previous encounter. Eventually Zeus recalled the crowd to order, so that the following match could take place and the little dog lingered at Aphrodite’s side along with god’s other pet companion.

The competition ended at sunset and, in the evening, the victors were honoured by the throng. Yuuko and Takeshi both placed well but neither of them won.

Yuuri’s dog took advantage of the confusion caused by the ending ceremony to slip back into his owner’s satchel. When Victor became aware of his the disappearance, a veil of concern draped around his face. The god’s eyes moved relentlessly as he silently skimmed over the crowd and, as more time passed without them finding what he was looking for, his mouth curved increasingly downward. Just as the triumphant athletes were leaving centre of attention to celebrate with their families, Victor Aphrodite excused himself with a bow and retreated out of Yuuri’s line of sight.

Another addition to the program of the festival had been the late night dancing exhibition to be offered by professionally trained dancers coming all the way from the city of Delphi.

“These performers rank among the best of all Hellas.” Yuuko explained to the daughters, when a group of all-female dancers stepped on the stage. “They study to compete in the annual Grand Pythian Festival, where the winners are granted the favour of the god Apollo and a wreath of bay laurel.”

“Why of Apollo and not of Zeus?” Aglaia asked.

“Because when Leto carried inside her Sara Artemis and Michele Apollo, the illegitimate children of Zeus, his wife Lilia Hera, furious for the infidelity of her husband, sent a giant serpent called Python to chase the pregnant mother.

Although she managed to escape and give birth to the two twins, when Apollo grew into a man the next day thanks to the nutritive powers of ambrosia, he swore vengeance on Python and vowed to kill him. He did so at Delphi, where the serpent had hidden in flying away from his person, but Zeus and Hera considered Python’s slaughter a crime against their authority and commanded Apollo to make apologies, which he brought forth by establishing a recurring competition for artists in the very same city in which the slaughter had taken place.”

“The Grand Pythian Festival?”

“Exactly, my dear.”

“I’m going to compete in the Grand Pythian Festival too.” Euphrosyne exclaimed.

“I want to wear a laurel wreath.” Thalia added.

“You are all too young to participate now.” Yuuko said. “You must wait till you are old enough to leave home. To qualify for the Festival, one must first secure a good placement in at least two of several smaller competitions held throughout the lands wetted by the Great Sea. Do you think you can do that?”

The three girls declared their confidence in their potential and discussed their future careers until their mother was forced to scold them for speaking too loud and disturbing the dancers and the audience.

Yuuri had listened to the tale with attention, although he had already heard it many times. He too was an illegitimate son of Zeus and he too had defied to god’s will on occasion, yet he had never been punished for his actions.

Pensively, he looked at the dancers on the stage; some of them he deemed particularly talented and he would not have minded taking the time to attend one of the next Grand Pythian Festivals to see another of their compositions.

The music drastically changed and an all-male group followed the girls after their exit. Yuuri remained entertained until the end of their exhibition, finding himself wondering what it would be like to prance on the stage among them, instead of watching the show unfold as a spectator.

As the night came to a closure, the crowd dispersed from the centre of the town, flooding the streets on their way home. Yuuri was dragged by the flow and, in its chaos, he became separated from Yuuko and her family. Attempting to reunite with his friends, he bumped in one too many shoulders, until he bumped in one smoother than the others and he looked up to see Victor Aphrodite mixing with the common folks, looking just as lost as he was.

They found each other in as close a proximity as they had ever been since that time, four years earlier, when Yuuri had foolishly grabbed his robe in the illusion of being recognised by the god as the youth with whom he had shared an afternoon in the mid-Peloponnesian forest.

Yuuri took the opportunity to play a prank on his offender. For a second time, he grabbed him by the robe to bring them close together and raised his tone above the sound of the many conversations of Olympia.

“Aphrodite!” He yelled, adopting an intentionally altered voice, further filtered by the false beard hanging over his mouth. “Why did you let me grow up so ugly? Make me as beautiful as you are!”

The poor god startled at the request. Yuuri took pity on him and retreated from the spot as soon as the flow of people provided an interruption between their positions. He reached the border of the road; from an elevation by the wall of a house, he watched Victor as held a stole over his head and navigated the stream forlorn.

 

The fifth time Yuuri travelled to Olympia to visit Yuuko during the festival, the event had gained significant fame comparing to his first year of attendance.

The running and wrestling competition held in commemoration of Aphrodite’s challenge had been consolidated as part of the program, attracting a fair number of athletes from outside town. Yuuri was surprised to discover that neither Yuuko nor Takeshi had signed up as competitors.

“I don’t understand, you both placed so well last time around.” He said. “I’m sure you have a chance to qualify at least in the top five.”

“Yuuri, I am thirty-one!” She exclaimed. “Four years have passed since that competition and my legs are not as good as they used to be. I still like to run in my free time, but I am no match for the younger athletes.”

“You don’t look that much older to me.”

“And yet I become tired far more easily than I used to.” She complained, then changed the subject. “Do you really have to keep that fake beard on and your dog hidden? I see the two of you so rarely and it’s almost like I don’t see you at all.”

“I don’t like receiving too much attention.”

“But everyone here loves you and I bet Victor Aphrodite would love to thank you one more time in person, if he only knew where to find you.”

“I doubt my absence will make an impact on the quality of his day, beside, it is not even guaranteed that he will attend to the festival this year.”

Victor Aphrodite did not, in fact, attend to the festival. Since his blossoming from a gracious youth into a handsome adult, his already elevated popularity among humans seemed to have increased tenfold; in addition to his association with beauty, his attractive looks had also earned him the appellative of god of love and a large number of new cults had emerged from the expansion. The boosted attention had caused him to become more reserved than he had been in the past and had gained him a reputation for avoiding public ceremonies.

When noon came, only Yacov Zeus made his appearance before the temple to bless the people of Olympia and inaugurate a new statue bearing his image, made of marble and heavily decorated with gold, meant to replace the old acrolith figure standing inside the sanctuary. After a brief prayer to the god, the high priest dismissed the crowd and declared the start of the games.

Yuuri’s party started walking in the direction of the running track, where the footrace was about to take place. Aglaia, Thalia and Euphrosyne were leading the small company, keeping, thanks to their easy scurrying, several feet ahead the others. Yuuri and Takeshi sauntered in the centre, while Yuuko lingered behind everyone.

“Your daughters have grown into quite spirited girls.” Yuuri commented. “With an energy like theirs, they would no doubt place very well in the footrace, were they to choose to compete in a few years.”

“They would,” Takeshi answered, “but they prefer dancing to running. They plan to compete in the Grand Pythian Festival.”

“I see.”

“They have for some time been following through hearsay the feats of the dancers in Delphi and are determined to learn the profession. Oh, look at them, they’ve got one of tonight’s performers stopped for a chat, I think she’s one of the best.”

The triplets had stopped trotting and had gathered around a charming blond-haired woman wearing a plain, white robe. She smiled at the girls and appeared to have a kind word for all those who approached her. Yuuri recognised her as one of the dancers who had taken the stage four years earlier during the exhibition, remembering with clarity the impressiveness of her skills.

The woman caught him staring in her direction and, when Yuuri realized this, he endeavoured to put a smile on his face in order to match with her countenance. Strangely enough, when she returned his gaze, her smile had vanished completely, substituted by a frowning inquisitive expression.

Yuuri instinctively brought a hand to his cheek to feel his cosmetic beard, fearing that his disguise had fallen out of place. As this was not the case, Yuuri wondered whether some other detail had revealed his identity to the dancer, but, before he could fuss too much out of it, the woman had already adverted her eyes and carried on with her own walk.

“I am not sure Yuuko wants to see the footrace.” Takeshi said, calling him back from his reveries. “She will not say so, but I think she is sad not to be able to compete. Why don’t you two take a stroll in the forest? You hardly ever see each other and I am sure some time alone will do both of you good. I will look after the girls.”

Following Takeshi’s advice, Yuuri asked Yuuko to take a detour in the nearby woodland.

At first, they walked silently next to each other, but, as soon as they were out of sight, Yuuko sprinted into a run. Yuuri aligned to her pace and, when she eventually stopped and let herself fall onto a collapsed tree, he sat at her side.

“You are still so young, Yuuri.” She started between short breaths. “I, on the other hand, am a bit older every time I see you. I am happy with my life: my family is wonderful and I love working in the fields, but I do feel the pressure of not having achieved more with my time on Earth. I’ve still got plenty of years ahead of me, but I am not as strong as I once was and I fear some of my dreams are by now out of reach.”

“Yuuko, I cannot begin to express how much I admire you for all that you have accomplished in life.” Yuuri interrupted her. “Looking at you, I often wonder if godhood is wasted on me. I am the son of the most powerful being in Hellas, from which I inherited abilities of my own, and yet I am no closer to discover what to do with this abilities than I was when we were both kids.

My father will not recognise me and I feel unworthy to see my mother. Those of my kind are expected to take upon a role within the order of nature, to become one with their divine fate, yet here I am, an irresponsible troublemaker. How can I be the god of anything if I have nothing of value to offer to the world? How can I live up to the hopes of those who love me?”

Yuuri and Yuuko were both in the verge of tears, both for their own burdens and the burdens of the other.

“The first time I ever saw, when we met in the forest,” Yuuko started, “I had run away from home, because I felt there was no place where I truly belonged. I had lost my way and had wandered for days without being able to return from where I had come. Yet, when my eyes fell on your face, I realized that it looked more like my own than most others in Peloponnesus and I trusted you immediately. You were not a stranger to me, you were a brother, so I followed you, until you brought me back to my family.

The legends taught me that the gods are fair and golden, but my favourite one has hair as dark as the night and dresses like a shepherd. Your father is a great god to the rich and noble, and little he cares about everybody else, but you can be a great god to those of us who have not money and good blood enough for their pride. Where you will go, many will follow.”

So moved Yuuri was by his friend’s speech that he could not speak until they returned out of the woodlands.

In light of Yuuko’s confession, another thought started taking form in Yuuri’s mind. When they were young, she had always been older than him, but Yuuri had been growing faster and he eventually recuperated the difference. For the past few years, it seemed like Yuuri’s growth had halted completely, while Yuuko had continued to age just has it would have been expected from a human.

There was nothing out of the ordinary in either body’s response to the passage of time. He was the son of a god and a nymph, a match that would often produce offspring subjected to rapid early developments and gifted with long-lasting lifespans. Conversely, she was a human, destined to succumb within a few decades to the clutches of mortality.

Yuuri was wondering how old she would be within a few festivals, when a disturbance from the triplets brought him back to the present.

“Yuuri, move!” Aglaia screamed, taking his hand in hers and dragging him forward. “If we don’t eat soon, it will be too late to get good spots to see the dancing exhibition!”

Thalia and Euphrosyne pushed his back, helping their sister in her endeavour to make him walk.

Thanks to the enthusiasm of the three girls, they managed to occupy an area in the front row, getting a great view of the spectacle.

Yuuri couldn’t help but single out from the group of performers the blonde-haired woman that he had seen talking to the triplets earlier that day. She was discernibly more skilful than the others and far more capable of drawing the attention of the crowd.

“She is Chryse of Cythera,” Yuuko whispered, “judged the best dancer of the Grand Pythian Festival for three years in a row.”

“It looks like she deserves it.” He murmured back.

Maybe because he had been studying her technique for too long or maybe because he had been moving his legs in time with the music too visibly, late in the dance, he and the woman made eye contact. Although he quickly adverted his gaze, it seemed that she kept staring at him with suspicion, making him for the second time that day wonder whether she could see the divine being hiding behind his bearded disguise.

When it came the men’s turn to take over the stage, instead of disappearing with the rest of her chorus, she joined the audience and stood right next to their group, much to the triplets’ delight.

Yuuri made his best not to be unsettled by her proximity and kept his eyes fixed on the male dancers.

“They are terribly pretty, aren’t they?” Chryse whispered in his ear, making him startle like an alarmed hare. The woman smiled at his reaction. “I recognized you as soon as we crossed our eyes.”

“You did?” Yuuri said without breath.

“Sure, we met this afternoon on the way to the footrace. I’m not very good with faces, but you have a nice distinctive beard.”

Unsure on how to continue the conversation, he reverted his gaze to look at the dancers and stayed quiet.

“You know,” Chryse kept talking nevertheless, “Sometimes people are convinced there is no beauty to be found within them and yet they ignore the appeal of a peculiar feature or the charm of an artistic talent.”

Yuuri hummed in response.

“What I’m saying,” Chryse continued, “is that beauty should not consist in the mere judgement of one’s appearance as compared to a few fixed ideals. Sometimes, people feel unnecessarily worthless, because they think they have no beauty or because they think that is all there is to them and, sometimes, learning an art, like dancing, is the remedy against those treacherous feelings.”                                            

“My friend’s daughters plan to become professional dancers.” Yuuri found himself speaking, feeling drawn to the conversation, but unable to recognize its purpose.

“But what about you?” Chryse laughed gently. “I’ve seen you rocking along with the rhythm. Would you not like to become a dancer?”

“Do you think that would make me pretty?”

“I think you already are, but I think that would make you happy.”

Before Yuuri could formulate a reply, the woman excused herself, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

He had a lot of uncertainties about his future, but there were also a lot of possibilities.

As the night ended, his head was full of ideas, numerous and diverse, some which had long been seeded in his mind and some which had been planted only on that eventful day, carrier of many realization, and all of this ideas were related to the path that he would soon have to choose as his own.

When almost all of Olympia had gone to sleep, he walked to his father’s temple and, just as he had years earlier, he crept into the building by stealing the backdoor’s key from the priests’ dormitory.

The hall of the temple was just as dark and silent as he remembered it. He laid his lamp at the feet of Yacov Zeus’ new gold-laden statue and started pacing before its magnificence glow, letting the thoughts that had been cluttering his mind be mumbled out of his mouth.

The threads pulled by his crisis spanned from his guilt towards his mother, to his feelings of inferiority towards the other gods and to the dread of outliving his friends and their offspring.

A few minutes passed before he started relaxing. The mumbling turned into a musical humming, while the paces turned into articulate steps and eventually all his movements evolved into a dance. Perhaps because he had drunk some wine during the festival, he started talking to Zeus’ statue.

“I’ve been thinking for a while that I’d be very good at dancing.” He said aloud once his act was over. “The art always fascinated me, since that time Victor Aphrodite performed for me to the sound of my lyre by the Ladon river. I’ve always wanted to learn myself and I often dance when no one can see me, but I wish my technique were superior and equal to those of the competitors in the Grand Pythian Festival. So maybe that’s where I’ll put my efforts from now on.

You wouldn’t notice, would you, father mine, if I became one of the most famous dancers of Hellas? Are you not going to comment on my aspirations? Of course you won’t, you are just a rock. I don’t like your new statue; the half-wooden, clothed one looked more animated. There is too much gold in this one, it shines too much and it’s an enormous waste of a very rare and valuable material.”

Yuuri stare at the figure for a moment, then produced a metallic tool from his satchel.

“In fact,” he said with a determined tongue, “I have come here to take some of it away.”

He proceeded to remove the golden decorations from the statue and wrap them inside a piece of cloth. After half-an-hour of work, he exited the temple and retrieved his dog, so that they could both set out for a new journey.

Before dawn, he reached an abandoned forge and forewent the light of the sun for a full day, so that the stolen metal could be wrought into smaller pieces. From the following morning, all Peloponnesus started talking about the great Yuuri Hermes, travelling from village to village and tossing coins made out of a gold alloy for the poor to take.

To the enquiries about his wellbeing and destination, he answered that he was about to return home, after a long absence, to see his mountains and to see his mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos to charge, comments to cast!


	3. The Trial of Hermes

The summer’s sun hit hard on Mount Cyllene’s beloved highs. The fair crests of the mountain, contoured by a line of deep green vegetation, were to Yuuri a familiar and welcoming sight.

Since the day he had left the site of his birth and the home-cave protected within its rocks, he had returned to visit the place with regularity, but never at a time or in such a proximity that would result into an encounter with his mother.

Although Yuuri loved her dearly, he felt that his inclination to be a troublemaker had brought disgrace to their small family. His acts of disrespect and disobedience towards the other gods were already beginning to mount up when he first departed from Cyllene to satisfy his need to travel and they had provided him with an additional reason for avoiding contact with his mother. By the time his adventures had succeeded one another, the count of his offences had gotten so high and the years of his absence so numerous that he could not muster the courage to face her disapproval. Nevertheless, whenever he returned to the mountain, he always made sure to bring her a gift acquired in this or that foreign land, so that his mother would know she was missed and thought of.

Among the crimes Yuuri had committed were the widely retold stories of the theft of Michele Apollo’s cattle and the tricking of Argos Panoptes, but none of these two incidents came close to the degree of severity that his recent deed had reached. The despoliation of Yacov Zeus’ statue and the dispersion of its fused gold around Peloponnesus was a great and direct offense against the most powerful and most revered god in the Pantheon and, as such, was unlikely to be of little consequence, yet, for the first time in many years, he felt not ashamed for his actions.

He had spent all his life aching to be accepted by his father and Olympus; even when he believed himself free from this wish, its seed had kept growing inside his heart and, for years, he had born the weight on not being able to gain their attention and appreciation. Thanks to Yuuko’s encouragement, for the first time since he could ever remember, he found himself wishing that he could be as far as possible from those very gods instead. He had his adventures, he had his dreams, he had his human friends, his dog, his home and a mother who had been waiting far too long for him to come back. He would cherish them all until the passage of time would allow it and no feelings of inferiority would ever again keep him apart from those he cared about.

With this spirit of rebellion, Yuuri Hermes had committed the ultimate act of defiance towards the deities of Hellas and made clear his alliance with the human kind. Just as his childhood friend had suggested, his place within nature could be, after all, at the service of the common people rather than at the command of the nobles. Whether the gods of Olympus would notice or care about his conduct remained to be seen.

Yuuri completed the hike to his cavern in a few minutes and, if at the arrival he appeared to be breathless, it was not because the run had tired him, but because he had finally come to lay eyes on his mother.

Hiroko Maya was a plump shorthaired nymph of great beauty and cordiality. Her age was mitigated in her features, which were surrounded by an ethereal glow and offered to those able to witness them a joy peer to gazing from a close proximity at a star in the sky. This joy was unfortunately rarely experienced, for, unlike her son, Hiroko was not one for travelling and revelled in the seclusion found between the rocks of Cyllene.

Yuuri choose not to surprise her and left a furtive message of forewarning attached to the chord where the laundry had been hanged out to dry. When Hiroko discovered the piece of parchment while taking back the clothes, she brought a fist to her chest and searched the clearing for its author, without success.

A good while later, Yuuri he came out of his hiding place and approached the entrance of their cave shyly. His steps alerted Hiroko of his arrival, who dropped her amphora to run towards him.

“Yuuri, welcome home!” She said with a smile, clasping her hands before her waist, visibly trying to contain her excitement.

“Thank you.” Yuuri muttered with embarrassment. “I’m sorry it’s been almost seventeen years.”

“It’s all good, I’m sorry I never left the mountains too, I had heard you might show up at the Olympic festival. Do you want a bowl of pork bits and wine sauce? And this little odd ball of fur must be Victor.”

After introducing his dog to his mother, they all went inside the cavern to dine undisturbed by the winds. Just as proposed, she prepared for him the special recipe he so favoured and they talked for hours about his travels and the friends he had made. Hiroko Maia was surprised to discover some differences between the tales she had heard about her son and the ones she was hearing from their protagonist, but Yuuri assured her that any differences were to be blamed on the imagination of the aoidoi.

That night, Yuuri slept on a rug spread on the ground, for his old bed had become too small for his stature and had been thus taken by the dog.

Life on Mount Cyllene was set to proceed ideally. If their land lacked the variety found in travelling, it certainly didn’t lack on the score of domestic pleasures. Their cave overlooked a large sloped meadow, which granted a sensational view of the skies and the peaks and was populated with his mother’s animals, the neighbourhood offered water and food aplenty and, inside the cave’s hollow, by a hidden corner, a miraculous hot spring pooled in a hole into which its two inhabitants could soak at their leisure.

Yuuri Hermes was the kind of person who managed to find adventures in the known as well as in the unknown and, on the second day of his permanence, after taking a relaxing bath in the spring and putting on his pretenceless rustic clothes, he started on a path he used to walk when he was a little child and climbed all the way up to the peak of the mountain. From there, he could appreciate the all-surrounding vastness of the sky, the majesty of the gliding eagles and the smell of the clouds.

Looking at the birds flying below him, he wondered what he would need to become a god on his own.

Despite his condemnation of Yacov Zeus’ behaviour and of the arrogance of the pantheon, a small wish persisted in his heart that he might one day see Victor Aphrodite dance again and that he might, perhaps, show him some of the moves he had learned in the meantime.

The warm affection he felt for the god of love and beauty was overcome by a sentiment of a very different nature, when his mother mentioned its very recipient after dinner.

“While you were gone,” she said, “my sister Sterope came to visit; she had news from Olympia.”

“What news?” Yuuri asked half-interested.

“They say that Victor Aphrodite was seen appraising the damage you have caused to the statue of Zeus and making enquiries about the incident.”

Yuuri quaked with dread and embarrassment. He would never have imagined that Victor would take an interest in the case. Victor was not the father who had abandoned him and, although he had been upset by his inability to recognise him, he also did not want the only god for which he felt a tad of admiration to take this affront personally. The information he had just received caused him to review his actions and question their convenience.

He bid his mother goodnight as he excused himself from the table, then laid down on his rug to search for the comfort of numbness between the covers of sleep.

He was awakened by a thunder, a bright holler announcer of a formidable storm, which last through the night and the following morning. When the tempest was over, it became evident that the bolts, the wind and the water had brought ruin to the plants and the fixtures in the surroundings of the cave, so, once the weather tuned down to a lighter rain, Yuuri prepared to go outside with the aim to clean up their meadow.

As he approached the exit, he was trust on the ground by an unexpected weight and, suddenly, he found himself imprisoned under a four-legged beast licking his face.

“Victor!” He cried, except that, despite having the same physical traits as his own dog, this animal was much bigger. Yuuri was filled with incredulity, for he knew of only one person in the world who owned a dog similar to his, the one person who had first given it to him.

“The other sheep-dog came with a really good-looking visitor while you were sleeping.” His mother said cheerfully. “He’s in the hot spring right now.”

Yuuri jumped on his feet and started running in the direction of the spring’s grotto. When he arrived there, his suspicions were confirmed.

Victor Aphrodite was sitting at the opposite edge of the pool, relaxing in the water, with his cheeks red and his eyes inscrutable.

“Victor… why are you here?” Yuuri asked in disbelief.

Aphrodite emerged from the spring and stood up in all his bare legendary beauty, exposing Yuuri to the sight of a wet, glistening body to which he could not help but be attracted.

“Yuuri.” He said gently, extending a hand palm-up towards his new companion. “Today, I am your saviour. Yacov is coming to take you away in some hours, as he plans to punish you for violating the sacredness of his statue. I’ll make you escape from his party.”

And then Yuuri was blinded by the vision of a wonder that would have made every inhabitant of the Hellenic world scream of delight: a wink of Aphrodite’s divine eye.

 

It took a plea from his mother to convince Yuuri that the best course of action was for him to temporarily leave Mount Cyllene. As soon as they could eat a meal and pack a few possession together, he climbed on Victor Aphrodite’s golden swan-drawn chariot with the plan to disappear from the Arcadian region. There he still was, leaning out of the side of the carriage, looking at the shrinking form of the highlands.

The sky, as experience from within it, exceeded Yuuri’s every expectation. The air felt thinner and the wind ruled over his hair just as it did when he stood on the top of a mountain, except that there was no mass beneath him and his foothold was surrounded by emptiness on all sides. Soaring beside them was the occasional flock of birds and, in the distance, Yuuri could see Cyllene’s eagles wandering away from the peaks. He wondered if he would finally be able to discover how far from their nests they would travel.

“Your mother’s pork bits in wine sauce were delicious!” Victor was saying. “Absolutely on par with ambrosia, have you ever tasted it? No? I will serve you some once we arrive in the safety of my secluded seaside palace. We are going south, in an island where Yacov won’t be able to discover us, the one on which I hid during the years of my absence from Olympus. I’m sure you will like it, you will lack nothing.”

Yuuri sighed at his companion’s talkativeness and bent to pet the heads of their two dogs.

“You know you don’t have to do this?” He said eventually. “I can run from Zeus on my own. I am faster than he is.”

“I am well aware of that,” Victor replied tenderly, “but Yacov won’t chase you by running, he has his powers to resort to. You might share the same blood, but you don’t know him, you don’t know how to hide from him. With my chariot we can fly-”

“I didn’t even want to fly like a coward.”

“You didn’t want to run, but you also don’t want to be punished over a prank and I meant that with my chariot we can fly over the sea. Without being limited by the confines of land, you have a wider selection of hideouts at your disposition; the harder to guess the direction you have taken and the one hideout you have chosen.”

“I am not afraid to face of Zeus.”

“I know, but other people are worried for you fate.”

Yuuri did not respond further.

“You look anxious.” Victor winked lively, trying to revive the conversation. “You let me save you this time and, once you are no longer in danger, it will come your turn to save me.”

“Thank you.” The other muttered.

“Yuuri,” Victor spoke his name with a suave voice. “tell me everything about you. What powers are you practicing?”

One of the god’s hands had reached for Yuuri’s chin, making the latter’s eyes grow wide.

“How is life on Cyllene?” He continued. “Is there a nymph you like?”

The god’s other hand caressed Yuuri’s arm while loosely holding the reins, stroking all the way down to his palm, catching him off guard and leaving him unable to actually reply to those questions.

“Let’s build some trust in our relationship before moving into my palace.” He persisted nevertheless, bringing their faces close together.

Startled by the unexpected contact, Yuuri blushed profusely and slipped from the carriage, ending up hanging with one hand from its threshold. With four strong arms between those aboard and those attempting to board again, it was only a matter of seconds before he returned on the basket, but it became a matter of hours before his shyness allowed him to talk again.

On one hand, he was flattered, because it doesn’t happen every day that the god of love himself, in all his attractiveness, elects to flirt with you in particular with a whole world of potential lovers to choose from. On the other hand, as numerous stories reported, flirting was just the way of the god of love and it should not have been surprising that, finding themselves alone and away from prying eyes, Victor Aphrodite would try to compliment him or kiss him.

“I was only home for two days.” He said at last.

“You’ll go back soon.” Victor supplied.

“I want to go back now, I want you to turn around.”

Victor halted the chariot.

“If you want to face Yacov, we will face him together.” He said.

They stared at each other determinately for some instants, unsure of who would be speaking next, delaying words long enough that it resulted in it being none of them, for a thunder stroke close by in the sky and Yacov Zeus appeared on a cloud before the chariot.

“Victor,” he roared, fists shut tight on his sides. “once again, your loyalty lies against me.”

“How did you even find us?” The other god asked astounded.

“Don’t you know, Victor, that eagles are sacred to me…” He said pointing at a couple of specimen suspended in the air a few tens of feet away from them. “…and that their eyes are my eyes?”

Both Yuuri and Victor remained quiet.

“If you two want to face me,” Zeus stated solemnly, “you will follow me to Mount Olympus.”

 

Yuuri Hermes was granted the possibility to defend his actions before a council formed by the members of the Pantheon.

They all reunited on Mount Olympus’ highest peak, in the throne room of the Pantheon’s palace, and let Yuuri stand in the middle of the hall, so that he could be equally stared by all deities. Victor Aphrodite was called to take his place on his seat at the side of the room, along with his peers.

A slender woman with black hair collected in a high bun raised a hand to call the attention on herself instead. Yuuri recognised her as Zeus’ wife, Lilia Hera.

“Behold, gods of Olympus, this his Yuuri Hermes, son of Hiroko Maya of Mount Cyllene.” She stated. “For the second time in his life, he has been brought to Mount Olympus in order to be judged for his crimes against us.

Two decades ago, he stole fifty cows from Michele Apollo’s farm and killed two of them. He was but a child and Apollo decided to show him mercy, so he was allowed to return to his mother without punishment. Our friend Michele will join us after sunset — when he will be lifted from the obligation to drive the chariot carrying the light of the day — and will be offered the possibility to review his sentence for this case, in light of Hermes’ current offences, which will be presently summed.

On the night following the celebrations of the Olympic festival, Yuuri Hermes entered, without permission, in the temple of Zeus and despoiled its sacred figure by removing the golden decorations from its marble. He then destroyed the adornments by fusing the material and reforging it into small coins made of gold, of which he later god rid by handing them out to humans across the villages of Peloponnesus.

Among his other untried acts of defiance are the killing of my servant, Argos Panoptes, and the fright of a group of Oceanids, Poseidon’s maidens. All this he has done in the open and without shame of being discovered.”

Hera arrested the list of accusations and suddenly fixed her piercing eyes on Yuuri’s.

“How do you intend to defend yourself?” She demanded.

“First of all,” Yuuri started, “I meant no disrespect in taking the cows. Those that I killed, I sacrificed them to the gods of the pantheon, in which Michele Apollo is included.

Second, I did not kill Argos. He had a friend of mine chained to a tree, whom I was not able set free without being noticed due to the giant’s all-seeing one hundred eyes. He was feeling lonely, so I traded all of his eyes for an equal number of songs and stories and, once he was no longer able to see, I unchained my friend and left him paid and living. The reason why Argos has not been seen around Hellas since then is that he is no longer Panoptes; without his many eyes, nobody can recognize him. Furthermore, I was aware of the fact that he was your servant and, to compensate you for your loss, I put all of his eyes in the tail of your peacock, transforming an already fine-looking bird into the most beautiful volatile of this world.

Third, the Oceanids were being disobedient and, although they might have complained afterwards, I scared them as a joke at the request of their mother.

And fourth, if anybody in Hellas has more gold that they have need for, that is Yacov Zeus and, if anybody as a lack of it, those are the people of rural Peloponnesus. I was only helping restoring the due balance of nature.”

“Don’t you know,” said a muscular black aired man dress in an armour, “that the balance of nature demands winners and won, rich and poor?”

“Otabek Ares, god of war,” Yuuri addressed to the man. “I know that, more often than not, nature is imbalanced so that the strongest get stronger and the weakest get weaker, so that the richest get richer and the poorest get poorer. This loop is common enough that it can appear to constitute a point of order for nature, but it brings neither stability nor welfare.”

“I would like to add that the coins were very poorly forged.” said an especially young man with a sneer on his face and a coarse way of self-expressing, which completely contrasted with the delicate blond hair tied in a ponytail and encircled by two small braids. “It was the work of an amateur.”

“Yuri Hephaestus, god of smiths and artisans,” Yuuri replied, “that was the first time that I had ever forged anything. I apologise if the result wasn’t up to your standards.”

“Have you anything else to say for yourself?” Hera interrupted them.

“That was all, Lilia Hera.” Yuuri said.

“Then the Pantheon will start discussing the nature of your punishment. Does anybody have any suggestions?

Mila Athena, helmet-wearing goddess of wisdom and strategy, was the first to speak.

“I would like to bring to the attention of this council,” she said, “two similar cases of misbehaviour for which we have already pronounced a sentence and of which the perpetrators were related to Yuuri Hermes by blood.

The first case concerns his maternal grandfather, the titan Atlas, who sided with his kind during the Titanomachy. For this, he was banished at the western end of the Great Sea and punished with the duty to bear the weight of the sky.

The second case concerns his grandfather’s brother, the titan Prometheus, who restored for humans the ability to produce fire without our consent, giving them a mean to be a far more dangerous species. For this, he was punished by being eternally bound to a rock in the east, in the Caucasus region, where an eagle would eat his liver every day, only for it to regrow during the night and be eaten again the following day.

So I suggest that, since he likes to travel, we tie him to a pole, in the north or in the south, so that he can signal to intrepid adventurers that they have reached the end of the explorable world.”

“A good proposal, my dear Mila.” Lilia Hera smiled. “Anybody else?”

“I have got a suggestion, mother.” Yuri Hephaestus snarled. “Let’s throw him down in Tartarus with the other defeated Titans, so that he may share the tortures of those who go against the gods of Olympus.”

“Another brilliant idea.” Hera said. “And you Otabek? I wish to hear the opinion of all of my sons.”

“I really have no interest in him or his fate.” He answered with indifference.

“If we let his deeds remain unpunished,” Offered the god of the sea, Celestino Poseidon, “we will lose the respect of our subjects.”

“We won’t lose the respect of our subjects if he becomes one of us.” Victor Aphrodite intervened. “We had already discussed how the gods of Olympus should be twelve, the number of the divine, and yet we are still eleven. He is a thief, but the proper punishment for thieves is working to earn their belongings, so why not allow him to take over one of the roles of nature.”

“And which role do you propose that he gets, Victor? The god of thieves?” Hera enquired sarcastically.

“He is fast beyond reason.” He replied with passion. “I am sure the Pantheon can think of something.”

“I know!” Exclaimed Sara Artemis, goddess of the moon. “We always have a hard time communicating between each other, because our heralds are so slow. It took days to arrange this meeting. If he is so fast, we could hire him as our messenger. After all he’s exceptionally cute and I wouldn’t mind having my letters delivered by him.”

“Sara!” A voice cried from the entrance of the hall. It belonged to Michele Apollo, who had just come from parking the chariot of the Sun inside its stable. “How can you be flirting with him during his trial? Or at all?”

“Stop being jealous, brother mine.” She answered. “I flirt with whomever I want. Seat on your throne and vote for Yuuri to become our new messenger.”

“Vote according to your conscience, Michele.” Hera indicated. “I grant you the faculty to revert the sentence of forgiveness you pronounced two decades ago for the theft of your fifty cows and the killing of two.”

“I do not wish to revert it.” He said. “The heavenly music of the lyre more than compensates for any discomfort the event might have caused me.”

“Not even in light of Yuuri Hermes’ current offences?”

“There is no sum of offences which could surpass the joy afforded by the existence of the lyre.”

“Then it’s time for the present matter to be put to votes. Raise your hands those of you who want to favour Yuuri Hermes with the duty of being the herald of Olympus.”

Aphrodite, Artemis and Apollo raised theirs and along with them Hestia and Demeter, the goddess of the hearth and agriculture respectively, for a total of five hands. Hera smiled.

“Raise your hands those of you who want to punish Yuuri Hermes with the tortures of Earth or of Tartarus.” She continued.

Athena, Hephaestus, Ares and Poseidon raised their hands and so did Hera herself, for an equal total of five.

“Zeus, my husband,” she started tersely, “why did you not vote? You have remained silent during the entirety of the trial.”

“Oh, dear Hera, I still had not made up my mind and I did not know what to say” He murmured, his face unreadable.

“And have you so now?”

“I have now.”

“And to which side does your vote go to?”

“My wife, have we not already learned with our parents, against whom we have fought and won, that it is better to keep a valid son in your family instead than among your enemies? I vote for Yuuri Hermes to become our messenger and for it to seat with us as the twelfth member of the Pantheon. That makes six against five, the council has decided.”

At those words, Victor Aphrodite sprang from his throne to throw his arms around Yuuri, supported by the cheers of Sara Artemis.

“Thank you for not telling them about me stealing your ring.” Yuuri whispered in his hear.

“Do you still have it?” Victor asked.

“I’m wearing right now on a chain under my clothes. It is my good-luck charm.”

“I’m still wearing mine too. What are you planning to do now?”

“I want to spend some more time with my mother, so I’ll be staying on Mount Cyllene for a while, if the other gods will let me.”

“I am sure they will, they already love you.”

After the hearing concluded successfully — for the Pantheon and for Yuuri — the palace at the summit of Olympus was turned into the site of a banquet.

There, Yuuri Hermes found himself in the company of Mari Hebe, the cupbearer of the gods.

“So you too are called Yuuri, eh?” She said dubiously. “That’s confusing. Hey Hephaestus! You are the one who was born last, the omega Yuri. From now on, you are called Yuri-ꞷ.”

“What?” Yuri Hephaestus screamed at her.

“Don’t spill your nectar, Yurio.” Victor joined in.

“Shut up! That’s not my name!”

Unfortunately for Yuri Hephaestus, the nickname spread rapidly between the commensals.

Some days later, Yuuri Hermes was given leave to return to live on Cyllene with his mother for a time. He packed his few possessions, called his dog and started trudging on the path connecting Olympus with the grounds below it. So happy he was about having regained his freedom that he stopped on his way down to dance to the sounds carried by the wind. He was one leg mid-air when he spotted, out of the corner of his eye, a womanly figure imitating his moves from a faraway meadow. Her silky dark hair fell over her pale shoulders as she twisted and twirled and, when she realized in turn that she had been seen, she bowed to Yuuri and run in the distance.

Yuuri lost sight of her when a raspy voice distracted his eyes from their focus.

“She is Minako Terphsichore, the muse of dance.” The voice said.

“Mari!” Yuuri exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to tell you goodbye and to give you some ambrosia to eat during your journey or to bring back home.”

“Thank you.” He murmured sheepishly.

“Off you go now,” the cupbearer said, “but remember to come back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos to charge, comments to cast!
> 
> Lilia Hera:  
>   
> [DRAWING ON TUMBLR](https://bug-catcher-in-viridian-forest.tumblr.com/post/175893610041/the-drawing-nobody-asked-for-but-i-couldnt)


	4. Training and Travelling

Between the months spent helping his mother with the upkeeping of her cave and grounds, his almost yet not-merely-nominal duties as the messenger of the gods and the constant practicing of his dancing skills, Yuuri Hermes led quite a busy existence.

“It is so nice to have you home so often, these days.” His mother said, one evening, over dinner. “You and little Victor really brighten up the whole place.”

“Cyllene was already brightened by your presence alone,” he answered, “and we are the ones blessed to be guests in the lovely dwelling you have created and shaped.”

“You are no guest on Cyllene, my dear. You were born on this mountain and you belong here as much as I do.”

“This might be where I belong to, but I am also governed by the caprices of whom I belong to. The Pantheon choose me to join their council, yet my sit came from imposition rather than choice. In a way, I feel like I have lost much of my freedom and gained a lot of unwanted responsibilities.”

“Did you not always want to grow as a god?”

“Yes and I still do, but the gods of Olympus are, excluding a few exceptions, vicious and frivolous. You should have seen it, mother, the casualty with which they discussed whether they would torture or befriend me. There must be another approach with which divine beings can serve their purpose. I do want to help the people and I’d be delighted to earn my spot among the leading deities by putting in good use my supernatural abilities, but I do not want to be Yacov Zeus’ servant.”

“Are you not glad that your father recognised you as his son and welcomed you in his home?”

“How could I when I do not love him. I suffered greatly because of his abandonment, but I do not find comfort in his vicinity. When I was a child, he was a distant figure which I aspired to impress. Now that I can better understand his character and that I am aware that he uses his powers to dominate over others, he became a figure from which I aspire to differ. In retrospect, knowing about how my actions would get me in trouble and then place me at his side as an ally, maybe I should have just ignored the fact that I had a father of his kind and status, remain invisible to his eyes, like most of his offspring does; right now, I am just glad I’ve not been dispatched down to Tartarus.”

“So am I, Yuuri. Your heart is in the heights, not in the pits.”

“Is that really so? I promised to return to Mount Olympus in seven days for a political conference, at the end of which I will have to report the outcome of our meeting to some belligerent king. It will be held in the highest peak of all Hellas, yet my heart is not in it one bit.”

“Victor Aphrodite is going to be there and you always praise him.”

“But will he notice I am there too?”

“Aren’t there going to be just twelve of you there?”

“Thirteen, if you count the cupbearer, but that doesn’t mean anything when one is worth nothing.” An expression of dread clouded Yuuri’s dark eyes as he briefly paused to formulate another prediction. “Or what if he notices me just because I don’t know how to be a proper god and I make a fool of myself before the whole Pantheon? Everyone’s abilities are so much more developed than mine, even Yuri Hephaestus’, who is some years my junior.”

“Hephaestus has trained since his birth under the older generation of gods, while you haven’t. With time and under their guidance, you will develop incredible powers of your own.”

“At least something good will come out of this situation.” He sighed. “One day I am going to be strong enough that I can help nature and humanity on my terms.”

“Is that why you’ve been so pensive as of lately? Is the rule of Olympus so incompatible with your character that you cannot find a grain of happiness in your circumstances?”

“Perhaps a very small grain,” Yuuri smiled, “but there’s more to it, mother. I want to start dancing professionally. I want to compete against other dancers. I think that would make me happy.”

“If that’s what you want, then that’s what you shall do.”

“I will need a teacher to achieve the best dancing I am capable of.”

“Do you already have someone in mind?” Hiroko enquired.

“Uhm, not really.” Yuuri mumbled. “I plan to visit Delphi, to explore my possibilities. It is the Hellenic heart of dance and music and, therefore, the centre of the entire world, conveniently set at a distance of but a three-day journey from Mount Cyllene. Even if I had to move there for a time, there would be plenty of opportunities for me to travel back home on the regular.”

“Stop there on your way back from your duties for Olympus.” Hiroko declared. “Choose the best teacher of all the polis, for I am sure they will accept you among their students. Do you want me to refill your bowl?”

 

Several days and a prevented war later, Yuuri finally had the occasion to breath the colourful air of Delphi.

The polis was not one of the largest he had visited, but it was definitively one of the most artistically alive. The houses, the squares and the borders of the streets, every corner of the human settlement served as the carrier of the pleasurable sound of music; even an exceedingly poor observer could have noticed that a good part of the population was comprised of artists, whether accomplished or in training. This characteristic was second only to the prominence of the cult of Michele Apollo within the area, to whose domain the gentle arts were commonly ascribed. No market lacked an assortment of figurines representing his image and it was rare to see a priest devoid of his robes and his symbols. As the local singers claimed, Delphi would worship Apollo with the same strength with which Apollo’s sun would bless Delphi.

Yuuri Hermes’ list of places to visit covered a tavern and a fair selection of dancing academies, which he was determined to check out before nightfall. The research for a suitable teacher, however, didn’t go as smoothly as he had anticipated.

The first academy that he visited would have gladly accepted him, but Yuuri found the head instructor quite invasive in his manners, if not for the man’s innate character, for he fact that he had immediately recognized him as the newly appointed messenger of the gods and had never let go of the topic during their conversation, which prompted Yuuri to wear a light disguise for the remainder of the day. Three other schools were eager to open their doors for him, but Yuuri later discovered that the average age among pupils was much lower than his own and he preferred to share his classes with a quieter, mature group. A couple others refused to watch his audition altogether, whether because they deemed him too old to be trained successfully or because their classes were already overcrowded, and a few sent him away due to fear of his unusual, albeit small canine companion. Private teachers with experience were unavailable on such a short notice and most were willing to take as charges only students who had won at least a minor competition.

Frustrated by the outcome of his search, Yuuri removed his cosmetic nose and sat at the base of a statue in a semi-populated square in order to rest protected by its shade. After collecting his thoughts, he raised his head to look at the stone under which he had found comfort, only to discover it was a sculpture of Victor Aphrodite.

He laughed grimly. So much he had grown to fancy the god of love and beauty that Yuuri — although they had been in the same room multiple times since Victor had come to Cyllene to offer him his help — had barely had the courage to initiate a conversation, let alone move his eyes in his direction, lest the other guessed the feelings of attraction that boiled inside him. It might have been pride or it might have been humbleness, but Yuuri’s mind was strongly against the idea of being discovered desiring the one who was loved by all and could, therefore, choose any.

With little effort, he stood from the base and stepped on it in order to reach the head of the statue with his hand and place the fake nose on top of Aphrodite’s perky one.

“There Victor, with a touch like this you too are unrecognizable.” He said with a glint in his eyes and a satisfied smirk, “I could bump into you, our heads smashed together, and still not realize I am face to face with the most beautiful creature of Hellas. Were I not aware of you identity beforehand, I would think you are one of my no doubt multiplying followers. I would ask you if you’ve got a prayer for me; after all I am a deity, the god of something, even if I am not sure what that something is. I get tossed around delivering the Pantheon’s messages, so, maybe, I am the god of messengers. I guess I can bless the speed and the content of the letters you exchange with your one hundred lovers.”

A cheerful laugh coming from behind his back woke Yuuri from his playacted dialogue.

“If I didn’t know you were one of them,” said a short brown-skinned boy with a bright, sunny smile, “I would denounce you to the gods for sacrilege. That ugly crooked nose really is an offence to the god of beauty.”

Yuuri removed the cosmetic nose from the statue and tried to walk away from the scene of the mischief without engaging the youth in conversation.

“Wait, where are you going?” The boy insisted. “Are we not introducing ourselves? I am Phichit Orpheus, the son Apollo, we are practically related.”

“Are we?” Yuuri turned around, hiding his curiosity behind a mask of absentmindedness.

“Not that it means much, it is awfully common when you are a descendant of Zeus, but you and my father are paternal half-brothers.”

“Indeed.”

“Awfully common, but exciting nevertheless.” The boy held Yuuri’s stare with a big grin on his face, until his features were morphed by the sudden arrival of a realization and his mouth took on the shape of a circle, eventually concretizing into an exclamation. “I can play the lyre!”

“You can?” Yuuri replied.

“I have been studying the lyre since I was a child, because my father is so fond of it. Obviously that is nothing compared to you, who ideated and built the very instrument barely out of your crib.”

“It was not that extraordinary, I grew up very quickly.”

“Speed is in your nature. I have some gifts as well, I can tell stories and I can sing them over the strummed string of my lyre. Care to hear some?”

“I doubt I could appreciate any music when there’s two artists in this square already performing over each other’s piece.”

“Never mind, I will limit myself to speech, follow me.”

Phichit lead Yuuri near a wall decorated with a mural. The picture painted on the surface was that of a superbly posed dancer with the most elegant profile and long silvery hair collected in a ponytail. Surrounded by a swarm of doves, they wore a swan-like feathered blue costume and a crown of roses of the same colour.

“This is a representation of Victor Aphrodite in his youthful days. A few years before our time, my father Apollo established in Delphi the tradition of the Grand Pythian Festival as a show of penitence for the killing of the serpent Python, a servant of the gods sent by Hera. During the first five years of the festival, Aphrodite competed as a professional dancer in the female division and became a living legend by ranking first in almost every competition and always in the final. Eventually, he retired from professional dancing and, after his fallout with Yacov Zeus and his disappearance from the public eye, he was not seen performing for humans again.

Eight years later he reappeared in Olympia, grown into a man and completely flat-chested. It is said that a spurt of life washed on Aphrodite during the period of his absence, for he was born as a girl and never he had aged before then. Nowadays, his divine beauty is rarely witnessed and, when it is, his looks swing in between the masculine and the feminine. As for his dancing, it remains the food of legends.

I could tell you more about the reappearance of Aphrodite and first Olympic games, but of course you were there and already know all about it.”

“As a matter of fact I do. I had yet to start putting on a disguise while in public back then, no wonder at least somebody recognized me!”

“You are too modest Yuuri! Let’s talk about this instead: have you ever noticed that both you and my father famously play the lyre, killed a servant of Hera and later joined the Pantheon against her wishes? Your narratives bear some similarities; they almost look like they are inspired by one another and make the audience question their veracity.”

“Sometimes life is just as unoriginal as poor fiction and I didn’t kill any servant of Hera's!” Yuuri sighed. “I just traded with Argos Panoptes for his eyes. The audience is perfectly sensible in questioning the myths.”

“Teel me all about it, it might make for a good story.”

Yuuri was pleasantly surprised by the compatibility of his and Phichit’s characters. They walked together for half-a-hour, after which Phichit suggested they would get some dinner.

“I know just the place!” He said. “There is always plenty of food in Apollo’s temple and I have free access, even when the main building is closed, as it is today.”

They arrived before the temple’s door, which Phichit easily opened thanks to a key he had been carrying in his sack. He let Yuuri and his dog past the threshold, but stopped abruptly before following them inside.

“I heard you are fond of milk!” Phichit exclaimed. “We don’t have that, but I can get us some in a minute. Make yourself comfortable in the wait.”

His newly formed friend run away with a shining smile and Yuuri closed the door of the temple behind him, not to trick the passersby into believing the building had been opened to public.

The inside of the temple was dimly lit, yet still illuminated enough to give Yuuri the chance to explore the room. It was not the first time that he had set foot in Apollo’s sacred house in Delphi, but it was the first in which he did not have to share his surroundings with a crowd of offering bringers. In many ways, the place was not dissimilar to other buildings with the same function, except that at the centre of the hall stood Michele Apollo’s laurel-wreathed figure and that the offerings were, least in part, connected to the arts under his dominion.

Yuuri was in the mid of leaning against the wall, again in search of a few moments of rest, when he heard some noises coming from the deeper side of the room. Leaving his dog laying on the ground, he gingerly walked behind Apollo’s statue to find two people with their head bent on a fuming cauldron, their faces covered by a veil. Upon noticing the newcomer, one of them rose from the container and directed their covered features towards Yuuri’s, while the latter halted on the spot, expecting the others to initiate the interaction. The first word that came out of the standing veiled figure was his name.

“Yuuri!” The deep voice said. “Come forth. Are you looking for a dance instructor in the temple of Apollo?”

“Who are you and how do you know I am looking for a dance instructor?” He asked in reply.

Yuuri was used to having his face associated with his name by strangers, but not equally used to them having particular knowledge of his business.

“I am the assistant of the Oracle,” the voice replied, “and the Oracle knows everything.”

“Have you been following me?” Yuuri asked.

“If you remain quiet,” The figure continued, ignoring his question, “the Oracle will give you all the answers you need.”

“And where is the Oracle?”

His interlocutor’s arm extended towards the second veiled head, which was still bent on the cauldron. A sequence of raw acute mumbles came from beneath its cloth, yet Yuuri could not make any sense out of their content and turned once again towards the one who had identified himself as the Oracle’s assistant.

“I see you are perplexed.” The voice said. “I’ll translate for you the prophetic predictions of the high priestess. She says, ‘By seeking true love, you will find true friendship.’”

“What does it mean?”

“It is my job to translate her utterances, but I do not interpret them.”

“Sure, but does this mean that I will never find love or that I will find love and friendship within the same relationship?”

Instead of by a response to his question, Yuuri was met by more obscure noises from the Oracle and a prompt translation delivered by her assistant.

“She says, ‘A son will give you a daughter.’”

“That could be interpreted in any number of ways. Am I going to be the father of a son and, through him, the grandfather of a girl? Am I going to gain a daughter-in-law through my son’s marriage? Or will my very son turn out to be a daughter due to a previous misconception?”

Just as his first question, the new ones received no answer as the Oracle continued spilling her words into the cauldron.

“She says,” The assistant spoke almost suavely, “‘The courage to win is withheld by a cup of wine.”

Yuuri was about to ask whether drinking or not drinking the wine was the action to perform in order to get said courage, but he was interrupted by a crude shrill coming from the Oracle herself.

“I did not say that!” She slurred immediately after.

“You did not say anything!” The assistant rebutted.

The two started laughing under their veils, leaving Yuuri utterly confused. He might have chosen to remove himself from the temple, had not Phichit Orpheus returned at that very instant with the promised milk hopefully contained in the small amphora he carried by his torso.

“What is happening here?” He shouted in their direction.

“I apologize for exploring your father’s temple in your absence.” Said Yuuri instinctively.

“No, I mean what are they doing here?” He said with more merriment than anger about the two other people present in the room, grabbing their veils and revealing their faces.

The assistant’s short, blond hair and green eyes immediately stood out to Yuuri as belonging to someone he should recognize. The Oracle’s long, silky, dark hair also reminded Yuuri of something, thought he could not put a finger on what.

“I am sorry if they’ve caused you any distress.” Phichit said with honesty. “This is my uncle on my father side, Christophe Dionysus, who’s very fond of wine, while this is my aunt on my mother’s side and the muse of dance, Minako Terpsichore. She is very fond of wine as well and I fear they are both inebriated.”

“I see. So none of you is the Oracle?” Yuuri asked.

“The Oracle is not receiving today, the temple is closed.” Phichit pointed out.

“I’ve seen you in dancing on Mount Olympus from the plateau.” Minako Terpsichore intervened loudly. “The boy has some moves.”

“And we met in Olympia right before the sunset challenge and got drunk together.” Added Christophe Dionysus. “He showed me some very risky moves as well.”

Yuuri felt himself grow rigid from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. He was aware of losing his control and his memory after drinking too much and he did not want to hear about the details of his embarrassing behaviour.

“Come here, Yuuri.” Phichit said, directing him towards a shelf crammed with food after noticing his discomfort. “Let those two have some space to recover from the intoxication; we are going to refill our stomachs.”

When Terpsichore had finally sobered up, she approached Yuuri with a cheeky smile.

“We saw you today auditioning at the Pythian Dance Academy.” She said. “You were doing spectacularly before one of the instructors in the panel started screaming because your dog is a bit unusual in its shape.”

“Are you often at the Academy?” Yuuri enquired.

“Chris studies there, you will know he ranked among the firsts in the last Grand Pythian Festivals. As for me, I always look after dedicated dancers when I am not at home with my sisters on Mount Olympus’ plateau, so I am often in that or other academies.”

“Then I guess that, as I both often visit Olympus and plan to enrol in an academy, sooner or later we would have met each other anyway.”

“I’m certain we were fated to, but are you sure you want to enrol in an academy?”

“I want to learn how to dance to the best of my abilities.”

“Then why not study with a private teacher?”

“There are no good ones available.”

“For such a talent and a member of the Pantheon, I offer to teach you myself!” Minako exclaimed. “Be my student, Yuuri!”

The offer was met with enthusiasm by everyone. Yuuri accepted with gratefulness, Phichit congratulated him on his choice of mentor and Chris suggestively warned him about the competition, to which he himself belonged.

As the day approached to an end, Yuuri and Phichit sat together on top of a wall, watching the sun set below the western horizon, carried by the chariot led by the latter’s father.

“I dance myself.” Phichit said. “I have a private teacher and, in a couple of years, I am going to enter the competitions in the hope of honouring the heritage of Apollo.”

“I’d love to see you dance.” Yuuri declared. “I can play the lyre if you need any music.”

Phichit moved on a nearby rooftop to satisfy Yuuri’s request. After a brief performance, Yuuri commended his friend on his skills and they both settled once again on the wall with their legs hanging towards the red part of the sky.

“It is not the sun you are looking at.” Phichit commented, making Yuuri unexpectedly blush.

After a few seconds, Yuuri opened up on his thoughts.

“I was looking at the wandering star of the evening.” He said in a contemplative mood. “Do you want to hear about the day when I decided to learn how to dance?”

“Please tell me.”

“It was during a sunset like this, but in the forest rather than the polis. I had met with Victor Aphrodite by fate or accident and he danced for me as I played the lyre. I was but a kid and that was the most extraordinary dancing I had ever seen and that I’ve ever seen since.”

“I can understand, I’ve actually seen Victor dance once as well, on Mount Olympus.” Phichit said. “Since his return to the Pantheon, it is not a pleasure he shares often even with the gods.”

“I wish I could see him dance at least one more time.”

“Then I hope your wish comes true. In the meantime, we can still watch the dance of the star of the evening, to which Aphrodite’s heart is linked.”

 

Training under the muse of dance was a demanding year-long commitment, yet one which was completely worth the effort it required.

Similarly to how he had done previously, Yuuri Hermes split his time between his schooling in Delphi, his duties on Olympus and his family on Cyllene; Minako Terpsichore was happy to follow him on occasion when he visited the latter for an extended period, in order not to interrupt the supervision of her favourite student’s progress, but also, as Yuuri suspected, with the ulterior motive of taking a relaxing break from the taxing demands of the humans and the gods. She had in fact become a dear friend of Hiroko Maya and the days spent in Arcadia were to her a pleasant combination of work and sanctuary. The pairing was as much convenient to the women as it was inconvenient to the young god, for he had to bear the embarrassment of being frequently adopted by the two as a topic of conversation. He was nevertheless glad that the muse’s visits provided company to his secluded mother.

When not consumed by alcohol, Minako Terpsichore retained a feisty, enthusiasm-driven personality, additionally characterized by the rigidity typical of instructors. Yuuri himself did not dislike her as a companion, even if at times he found her manners overbearing.

The first change that Minako asked of her student’s life style was an alteration of his diet. Despite being an active runner and a practicing dancer, Yuuri tended to easily gain weight due to his constitution and the habit of eating far larger portions of food than those understood to be beneficial to the competing athlete; Minako believed that thinness constituted a considerable advantage for the performance of turns and jumps, thus she commanded that Yuuri would forgo variations of his mother’s pork-based special recipe which included eggs and grains. Hiroko, on the other hand, fully approved of her son’s predisposition to softness and continued to encourage him to help himself just as many portions as he pleased. Eventually the three of them reached a compromise: that Hiroko’s special recipe was to be served only on those meals partaken after Yuuri would manage to reach a particular milestone in his training.

As far as the actual dancing was concerned, Minako had a lot to complain about the quality of his movements. It was her opinion that a dance should appear effortless to the viewer and that the touch of one’s feet should caress the ground with the lightness of a feather. The expectation seemed to Yuuri impossible to meet, but he worked hard towards said goal nonetheless, exercising every day with constancy and passion.

Yuuri’s training soon proved to be fruitful. After the first days he could perceive a strengthening of his tiptoes, after the first weeks he had gained considerable air in his jumps, after the first months he had almost forgotten there was a soil below him and, by the end of the first year, he was already under the illusion that he was able to fly.

Minako sporadically commented on the innocence expressed by his dancing style.

“Even if you are not so, you look very young and unexperienced.” She said on one of those occasions, while examining his pose. “Maybe that’s because you never had a lover.”

Yuuri’s profuse blush quickly spread from his cheeks to the rest of his face. The subject made him self-conscious enough for it to reflect on his equilibrium and cause him to fall on his side.

“I guess that is the reason.” Minako concluded.

Being fond of the mountains, Yuuri also often practiced on Olympus at Minako’s place, being the muses’ plateau the most convenient location at their disposition for running and dancing.

Yuuri discovered that the gods residing in the peaks and the gorges of the revered mount did not often interact with each other. To immortal beings, days had the worth of minutes and months had the worth of hours and it was not unusual that many of the latter came to pass without two of them seeking each other’s company. Moreover, their palaces and residences were scattered on a localized, yet rather ample territory and few among them were keen to travel. The relative solitude was to Yuuri a cherished comfort, for he still had his troubles fitting with the god’s society and their way of viewing and influencing the world around them.

On this account, Yuuri had also done a perfectly good job at continuing to avoid Victor Aphrodite. The fear remained that his every word spoken to the god or his every glance thrown in his direction might betray his ever-growing admiration, a secret which he was not willing to share with its recipient. Indeed, Yuuri Hermes was quite inexperienced as far love was concerned and any small gesture of attachment addressed to him resulted in his embarrassment, while any minor emotion of the heart coming from his part and addressed to others left him with a dread of it being unrequited. It was so that he eluded the presence of Aphrodite both when on the same mountain and in the same room, relieved that the god himself made only a limited effort to initiate contact.

Nevertheless, every once in a while, he would chance upon other godly inhabitants of Olympus outside of the Pantheon’s palace. One fine morning, during his practice, Minako was snapping her fingers to give Yuuri the rhythm for his exercise, when, at some point, the snapping ceased and Yuuri halted to see if she had a new set of instructions to impart to him, only to realize that she had just been distracted by some far-away movements in the meadow.

Two unstable patches of pale yellow and deep red respectively were advancing through the plateau and, if for a moment Yuuri had been under the impression of having sighted two large, animated flowers in the short-vegetated landscape of the field, he soon discovered that those were none other than the emerging heads of Yuri Hephaestus and his older sister Mila Athena. The tall goddess of wisdom marched at a brisk pace, while the god of smiths showed a hint of hobbling.

“Yuuri!” Mila cried, her chin-long Tyrian purple hair free from her customary helmet and flowing in the wind. “I caught Yurio watching you dance!”

“I just walked on this pig by accident!” Yuri Hephaestus shouted. “And my name is not Yurio!”

“You know, I am learning to lift people.” Mila said cheerfully, raising her brother from the grass and holding him over her head to further irritate him, provoking the god to brashly protest against his situation.

Mila and Yuri’s not so playful activities suddenly stopped when a loud thunder broke into the clear sky.

 “See?” Yuri said. “You have made our father unhappy. Let’s head back to our houses.”

They took leave with celerity and much less liveliness than they had exhibited on their arrival.

Encounters were much more common with the gregarious Mari Hebe, who had formed a fast connection with Yuuri Hermes and appeared at Minako’s residence every time she heard news of his stay.

“How are things going at the Pantheon’s palace?” The muse asked over a cup of wine and nectar.

“My chores are as demanding as always, but what can you do.” Mari sighed.

“You are the only one who cares about us enough to pay us visits. It must be hard for you to descend from the summit without a flying carriage.”

“That is no trouble at all, because I am a good walker!”

“Then perhaps we should hike the mountain together.” Yuuri proposed, almost apprehensively. Mari’s expansiveness intimidated him as well as it drew him.

“I would love to!” She bawled.

One might wonder how Yuuri ever repaid the services of his teacher and that is easily explained. Yuuri taught Minako the art to play the lyre, which constituted a great asset for the muse, for she became able to supply a greater variance of music to her students and followers without the help of external sources.

The time training under Terpsichore flied extremely fast, as everything in Yuuri Hermes’ life did, and, at the end of the thirteenth lunar cycle, she declared him ready for the next step towards the Grand Pythian Festival.

“Yuuri,” she said, “I’ve taught you all I could teach you and now it’s time for you to approach dancing with a different methodology. One person’s guidance will only get you this far and versatility is at the core of a performer’s strength, thus you need to pass into the hands of a new mentor.

Celestino Poseidon will be your instructor. What he lacks in softness, he possesses in vigour and that’s what you need to complement your education. You will sail on the Yu-topia at the port of Pylos to study by his reign and reach, in some months, the dance competition of Sybaris in the region of Oenotria, far in the west; later you will return east for the competition held in Miletus. Those are prestigious events and a good placing will guaranty you a spot at the Grand Pythian Festival. During your voyage, Celestino will teach you about the mighty force of the sea and the gentleness of its waves. He will also look after your ship and its crew. Human and gods alike have trained under him, your friend Phichit Orpheus being one of his current students and, as he’s also set on entering the Grand Pythian Festival, another of Yu-topia’s passengers.

I am proud of you, Yuuri, for growing so much as an artist in such a short time and I am grateful for making me grow as a muse in return. Let’s drink a keramion of wine to the future of our careers.”

 

In the first two decades of his life, Yuuri had done much travelling, yet none of it on board of a ship. Used to rely on his legs and their supernatural speed, he lacked the motivation to seek manufactured means of transportation, unless they were required by one of his infrequent companions. In truth, Yuuri believe that, despite the perilousness of foreign territories, he could have reached both Sybaris and Miletus on foot by taking the long continental road, but Minako Terpsichore had been adamant about pursuing the advantages of a new experience.

Yuuri came to realize that there was some merit in his former mentor’s recommendation. In more than one field, the scarcity of diversity had brought him to great disadvantage. While he had travelled far in the east, far in the north, far in the west and far in the south, he had lost the opportunity to visit much of his home-region, for the land of Hellas was prominently comprised of small islands.

There was a downside to the onset of this adventure: before departing for the port of Pylos, Yuuri had to leave his sheep-dog on Cyllene with his mother. Seafaring might have proved to be, on the account of available room and food stocks, a challenging activity for an animal exclusively used to roam on the wide, bountiful, firm ground. As much as Yuuri felt he would miss his pet, he was also glad that his mother would not be left alone during his absence and boarded the Yu-topia with an ultimate sense of serenity.

The voyage was novel and instructive, but most of all, constantly enriched by the luminous presence of his dear friend Phichit Orpheus. The two of them made an incredible team as fellow cabin-mates and training mates: being the both of them able to play and dance, they could take turns at the lyre and provide music for the other.

Celestino Poseidon was commonly known as a god with a very variable mood — pleasant when in high spirits, but vengeful on occasion — but he still held a lot of respect for his carefully chosen pupils and normally adopted around them a friendly attitude, sometimes even engaging them as peers.

The exercises to which he subjected Yuuri and Phichit were more straining in comparison to what the former had previously experienced under Minako Terpsichore. Between the steady workouts and the maintenance of the ship, Yuuri ended up developing more muscular mass than he had ever had in his life, even if its extent was barely betrayed by his elegant medium-sized frame.

After several months of travelling and training around the coast and the islands of the Great Sea, the Yu-topia finally landed in Sybaris. Phichit explained him that the region was quite dear to Celestino; Poseidon was revered in Oenotria as much as in Hellas and Oenotria had been long rumoured to be the location of god’s birth and first memories, before he was temporarily swallowed by his father, Nikolai Kronos. Yuuri was flattered by the knowledge that Celestino had been willing to exhibit him as one of his most promising students at a festival held in a polis so close to his heart.

Up until then, during his training with Minako, Yuuri had only participated in minor competitions of little fame and interprovincial relevance, so it was a sensational piece of news among dancing enthusiasts that he had decided to enter one of the biggest festivals on the Great Sea. It was not unheard of gods and their descendants participating in agonistic contests organized by humans and, when it happened, the public developed exceptionally high expectations.

Yuuri took the stage with a marine-themed performance, a magnificent routine characterized by rhythm and fluidity. As it moved along with the music, his body recreated the liveliness of water: a merit of his talent, the choreography and the frilly white and light blue cover which he had donned — a vest enriched with ornaments shaped like the undulation of waves and scallop shells. On his right hand, the light blue pearl on a golden band which he had taken from Victor Aphrodite adorned his fourth finger.

The performance won him a second place in the male division and widespread notoriety as a phenomenal dancer as fast as news could travel. He was crowned with the leaves of Sybaris, along with his friend Phichit which managed to rank just a place below him.

The next stop of the Yu-topia was the beautiful coastal city of Miletus, in Anatolia, where both Yuuri and Phichit were eagerly awaited by the inhabitants who had heard the tales of their divine performances. The two dancers repeated their routines in front of the new public and, likewise, received new scores for the elements which they contained.

Even though Phichit Orpheus had charmed the audience completely with his style and charisma, the technical difficulty of his program was not deemed high enough to grant him one of the prizes. Still, as the son of the city’s most revered divinity, he was mentioned and thanked during the ending ceremonies.

Athletically, the juries were more impressed by Yuuri Hermes, who placed well and second. If the ranking was not for him a full victory, it was a triumph in respect to the fact that it earned him an invite to compete in the next Grand Pythian Festival.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos to charge, comments to cast!


	5. Tears at the Grand Pythian Festival

At the last port before their arrival in Delphi, to which the Yu-topia was headed in view of the approaching Grand Pythian festival, Yuuri and Phichit disembarked the ship for a quick trip to the local market.

Yuuri had wandered towards the shoemaker’s stall, to see if among his goods he would be able to find an apt replacement to his worn out sandals. A good walker, runner and dancer as he happened to be was often in need of a new pair of shoes, as the three activities required by nature a considerable use of a person’s feet, so he rather hoped to acquire some before landing in Delphi, where a great deal of attention would be given to his looks and clothing.

He picked up an unelaborated one which didn’t offer much cover, but which at least he believe to be able to afford and asked to the trader for a place to sit and try it on; he was directed to a stool behind the booth. Even if his choice wasn’t an item that would be likely to pass the judgement of the refined polis, it was cheap and it was not consumed. Unlike many other gods, Yuuri Hermes did not possess the riches dear to humans and, every time he had to make a decision regarding the spending of his money, he regretted a little having never asked to his few followers for a dedicated temple and the customary offerings to supplement his meagre income.

He lowered on the seat and removed one of his sandals. His hands had already got hold of its potential successor, but before he had the time to fit it on his foot, he heard a call for his name approaching the stall, delivered by Phichit Orpheus’s melodic voice.

“Yuuri! You will not believe this!” He yelled, scurrying across the crowd of shoppers. “Yuuri, come with me, you have to hear it for yourself or you will accuse me of being playing a joke on you until the Grand Pythian Festival is over.”

He grabbed Yuuri by the wrist and pulled him away from the stool, making him drop the new sandal.

“I can’t come with you, right now.” The other resisted. “I am trying on a new pair of shoes and you know I desperately need one.”

“Try them later because you desperately need to hear this and, if we wait any other moment, the crier will have left.” Phichit said with an air of finality, convincing Yuuri to review his plans with the simple power of his charisma. He dragged his friend for several turns as the latter followed half-barefooted.

The town crier was in fact ready to abandon his position when they reached him and did not appear willing to listen to their request.

“Dear man whose words bring knowledge to the masses,” Phichit addressed the crier as he blocked his way, “would you please repeat the announcement concerning the Grand Pythian Festival for my friend’s benefit? I don’t think he will believe me if he doesn’t hear it coming from your truthful mouth.”

“I am paid to repeat the things twice in the morning and I have already done so today.”

“But you see, my friend is in love with Aphrodite-”

“I am not!” Yuuri protested vehemently, red in the cheeks.

“He is,” Phichit continued graciously, “and he will compete in the Grand Pythian festival, so he must know about the prizes.”

“Who is your friend?” Asked the crier. “The drunkard Dionysus? King Ι.Ι. Sisyphus? Or Hermes, the god of shepherds?”

Yuuri’s blush deepened, both for the mention and for the discovery of the new domain attributed to him by humans. When he took the courage to raise his eyes and study the man’s features, he could see that he had dropped his name as a joke rather than as a sign of recognition; had he been identified as Yuuri Hermes, the rumour that he fancied Victor Aphrodite would have spread like fire and, eventually, it would have reached Victor’s ears, ultimately causing  Yuuri embarrassment enough to warrant him a permanent self-inflicted exile from Olympus. Fortunately, his impression was confirmed by the crier’s continued prattling.

“I am just having fun, young man.” He laughed after noticing Yuuri’s nervous expression, letting a beam of cordiality light the conversation for the first time. “He cannot be Dionysus, for he has the face of someone who hasn’t drunk in months; he cannot be King Sisyphus, because he lacks his snootiness and he cannot be Hermes, as there is no sheep-dog at his side. But I will humour you, if not for the fact that his blush sells his love for the God of Love effortlessly.”

Relatively safe from the fear of his secret admiration becoming popular knowledge, Yuuri kept quietly by his friend’s side, curious as to the nature of the announcement he had previously missed.

The crier took a piece of parchment from his satchel and read aloud:

“By the end of the Grand Pythian Festival, one winner will be chosen for each discipline, being these maidens' singles, men’s singles, pair dancing and group dancing. The winners will be honoured as the greatest dancers of all the lands of the Great Sea and will be crowned with a wreath of bay laurel. In addition, they will be awarded a symbolic monetary prize and twelve amphorae of sacred oil. Finally and exceptionally, for the first time in decades, the god Victor Aphrodite, first and five time consecutive winner of the maidens' singles title, will attend the festival and bestow the prizes to the winner of the men’s category. And that’s all I am going to repeat for the sake of your lovesick friend.”

“Have you heard? This is wonderful news.” Phichit shouted out as the crier walked away. “Victor will be there, watching the competition! This is your chance to prove your skills to him, to get his attention, to show him the dancer you’ve become by following his footsteps.”

“This is terrible news.” Yuuri differed with a grimace. “I don’t want Victor to see me dance until my technique is on par with his.”

“Quite a combination of low confidence and ambition: you don’t think you are good enough to perform in front of him but you are already thinking about yourself as his peer. You’ll do well, Yuuri, so well that you will earn back all of Victor’s admiration. Maybe if the winner is particularly pretty, he will also give him a kiss, in addition to the prizes.”

“Phichit!”

“I am not joking. You should dedicate your competition programs to him, after all your theme for this year is ‘water’ and Aphrodite was born from the waters.”

“I’d rather let the audience interpret my choice of theme as a tribute to our coach, Celestino Poseidon.”

“You can fool them but you can’t fool me.”

All of a sudden, the people around them started gasping loudly and pointing towards the port. Following their fingers, Yuuri’s and Phichit’s eyes settled on the menacing vision of a serpent made of water coiling as a column into the sky.

“By the muses, that must be a signal from Celestino!” Phichit exclaimed, uncharacteristically worried. “We must be very late, we have to return to the ship”.

“I have to retrieve my sandal.” Yuuri protested. “I left it at the shoemaker’s stall.”

“A water ball means it’s time conclude our dealings and head back, a water serpent means we have to leave immediately. If we are not on board in a minute, Celestino will be furious. Look at the beast in the sky! He probably already is.”

“You go, I’ll just catch up with you.” Yuuri said as he began to run in the opposite direction of the port.

When Phichit arrived on the deck of the Yu-topia, he found his friend already at Celestino Poseidon’s side and eyed him suspiciously.

Later in their cabin, Phichit addressed the issues of the serpent and of the persistent absence of one of Yuuri’s sandals.

“It turns out Poseidon had been angered by the antics of some local sailors and wished to depart without delay.” Yuuri explained, after sitting on his bed.

“But did you not go back to the shoemaker?” Phichit enquired, joining his side. “I was so confused when I saw you were here.”

“I did go back, but my shoe had been taken away. I just run really fast and surpassed you along the way.”

“It shouldn’t have surprised me, but I don’t really get much opportunity to see you running while at sea, do I? Never mind your old sandals, they were ruined anyway and, this year, all your performances are barefoot. Toss the other one into the ocean and buy a better pair with the wealth you’ll be accumulating after winning at the Grand Pythian Festival.”

Phichit’s full confidence in his abilities put a smile on Yuuri’s face. They brought three rodents that Phichit had domesticated thanks to his charming ways on the bed and relaxed by playing with the animals and discussing the events of the day.

 

When in Delphi, Yuuri kept himself wrapped under a thick disguise until the day of his first scheduled performance in order to minimize the interactions and maximize his tranquillity.

The Grand Pythian Festival was comprised of two events, the summed score of which would identify the winner of the competition. The first of the two events was the short program, a relatively brief routine characterized by strict technical requirements; following the theme of ‘water’, for this part of the festival, Yuuri would present to the audience the same sea-inspired routine that he had brought to Sybaris and Miletus. The second event was a longer exhibition during which the performer was allowed to express his skills and style with a larger range of freedom and was thus called the free dance; as an evolution of his theme, Yuuri built this routine around the idea of ice. The element reminded him of the formidable climate found on the mountains in winter, which challenged humans but flowed through his lungs like a breath of life. He had never performed this routine in competition, so he hoped to surprise Delphi with its novelty.

The importance of surprising was something that Yuuri had learned from Victor and which he had strongly associated with him since before their first meeting. When in his childhood he would listen to his mother’s stories about the goddess Aphrodite, she would describe a great beauty and an exceptional dancer who had a gift for going against everybody’s expectations, in life as well as on the stage. If Aphrodite’s followers and enemies expected a certain course of action, the deity would take an unpredictable path and, if Aphrodite’s audience expected a performance to embody a certain theme or a certain mood, the deity would dance to its conceptual opposite. Yuuri could see how this quality also applied to his interactions with Victor. Almost two decades prior, by the Ladon river, he had expected to roast a freshly caught carp to satiate his hunger, only to find a sparkling naked body lying next to the fire in the fish’s stead and realize that his dinner had transformed into a divinity. Said divinity presented itself with a name and a title that he had known to belong to a girl, but amazingly referred to its own person with the language normally applied to boys. Then Yuuri expected, as well as anybody, that such title as the godhood of beauty would be carried by a paragon of purity and perfection and yet, that evening, the very god of beauty danced for him with his bare feet delving into the dirty ground. Some years later, when everybody believed that Victor had escaped in weakness to avoid Yacov Zeus’ demands and planned never to return to Mount Olympus, he made a comeback as a well-muscled man, ready to fight for his freedom, right in front of Yuuri’s incredulous eyes. Finally, when Yuuri found himself in trouble after despoiling the statue of Zeus in the temple of Olympia and thought that Victor had forgotten him for good, the latter came to his rescue against the will of the most powerful among gods.

On the day of the short program, Yuuri could not see Victor anywhere near the theatre. Although he was disappointed by his absence, he was also aware that his attendance had only been announced in relation to his participation to the ending ceremony. Nevertheless, a Delphian high priest, which Yuuri understood to be the actual translator of the Oracle’s prophecies, declared that Victor Aphrodite wished all the competitors the best of luck during the festival and that he would watch over the dancers with his celestial sight.

As his turn to exhibit approached, Yuuri collected all his courage to perform before the most demanding public and the most esteemed jury of the Hellenic world. He was anxious, conscious of the effort and sacrifice which had taken him and his opponents to arrive so far into the battle and of how little disadvantage or misfortune it would take them to lose the chance of being recognised as the greatest dancer of the participating lands.

Only six champions for each category were invited to the Grand Pythian Festival. Aside from Yuuri, the present year’s contestants were: the divine Christophe Dionysus, beloved for his seducing movements and erotic atmospheres; a wilful Oenotrian, fighting for the glory of his master Apollo in the games to which the god himself had given origin; an elegant Cyprian, invoking Aphrodite as his guide and inspiration; the mysterious Cao, of which little was known beside his name and talent; and lastly, the popular King Sisyphus, adored by the masses and more confident in his skills than any of his rivals.

Yuuri felt a hand nudging repeatedly at his elbow. Phichit Orpheus, who had left the stands to stay by his side and offer him moral support, was recalling his attention back to the progress of the competition. He pointed at the stage, where the Oenotrian contestant was about to bring his routine to a closure; his act was meant to be followed by Yuuri’s, soon after as the judges revealed his assigned score.

The time came and Yuuri placed himself at the centre of the scene with all the determination that he could master. He inhaled deeply and, as the musicians started playing the first notes of his accompanying piece, he started to give life to a fluctuating picture of the marine environment and the constant changes of its reality. He swept through the floor, flurrying like a wave under the power of the currents, caressed by the wind and lulled by the sands; he twirled and twirled, under the eyes of Delphi and under the invisible ones of Victor Aphrodite. When the music came to end, he struck his final pose, positive that, despite the nerves, he had managed to construct a solid performance, even if not in line with the best of his abilities.

The jury’s verdict reflected Yuuri’s opinion of his technical elements and presentation. His score resulted in a satisfactory ranking, which, although unspectacular, provided all the necessary numbers to surpass the Cyprian in the first place after the free dance event.

“Well done, Yuuri!” Phichit exulted. “That was marvellous and I can’t wait for you to execute your ice-themed routine.”

“Honestly, I am a bit anxious about its reception,” Yuuri panted, fatigued by the exertion, “It’s two days from now, but the tension is already building up. Still I am eager to see the maidens dance tomorrow, in many ways I like the patterns of their performances better than ours.”

“See if they let you contend against them, next year, then.”

That evening, Yuuri had fallen asleep in his cabin on the Yu-topia, when an insistent knock at the door woke him and Phichit up. His friend opened the door; on the other side of the threshold was their instructor, Celestino Poseidon, holding a piece of rolled parchment.

“I have a message for Yuuri.” Poseidon said. “The herald said that it was of the utmost importance and that he has been trying to locate him for some weeks, until learning that he would be at sea until the Grand Pythian Festival. Quite a peculiar boy he was for wandering around a human settlement; from the waist below he had the legs of a goat.”

“Has he said anything about the contents of the letter?” Yuuri enquired from his bed, his mind in a haze and his vision blurred.

“He was clueless as far as the contents were concerned.” His mentor said. “Are you not going to take it?”

Yuuri immediately stumbled out of the covers to get his message, freeing Poseidon from his obligation.

“Do you mind if I light the lamp?” Yuuri asked to Phichit.

“Not at all.” The other answered.

Under the feeble glow coming from the tool, Yuuri could recognize the familiar handwriting. The urgency of the letter was not overstated and its contents were devastating on an intimate level.

_“Dear Yuuri, I have some grave news to convey to you and it pains me terribly that I have to do so on parchment rather than in person, especially while also not being able to know where and when this message will reach you._

_Our beloved dog has passed away during the night; it appears that he has died peacefully and of old age. I summoned my sisters to follow through the proper rituals and prepare little Victor for his voyage to the underworld._

_Yet there is not only sorrow in this world. I heard that you did well in Miletus and I am very proud of you for earning an invite to compete in the Grand Pythian Festival. The times are harsh ones, but your family and friends will be rooting for your victory._

_I’ll be entrusting this message to Kenjirou Pan, the fastest carrier I know, aside from you. He’s a great admirer of yours and I am confident that he will do anything in his power to find you speedily._

_Until we meet again, take comfort in the knowledge of my love._

_Mother.”_

Yuuri couldn’t stop his tears from falling and wetting his cushion. The sudden news of his dog’s death had hit him hardest of any he had ever received since his birth. He felt distraught and, most of all, guilty. Guilty for leaving another being which he loved dearly behind in his selfishness, guilty for dancing his way into temporary fame while his faithful companion lied buried in the ground, guilty for not even having been aware that his dog was capable of dying.

The light went off and Phichit’s affectionate arms held him tight from the shoulders, as his mind drifted away into despair and oblivion.

 

Grief lead Yuuri to overeat and neglect his practice, so that, on the day of the free dance, his ability to perform was impaired both mentally and physically. In said circumstances, he stood before an audience of thousands, ready to initiate his program.

The white base of his costume was mostly covered by a glittering blue shroud, meant to shine like an expanse of ice under the powers of the full moon. Its fabric had been woven with selected rare minerals by express order of Celestino Poseidon; a glorious craft which came to be wasted when its owner went off to wear it along with a black mood.

The music started and, from there, Yuuri’s performance was a roll downhill. He botched every jump and made a poor show of his planned step sequences. His defeat was so crushing that he landed directly to the last and six place.

Depressed by the results and ready to return home, he left the theatre and debated with himself whether perhaps he should retire from the art of professional dancing entirely. In the distance, he could hear the voices of Delphi cheer for the winner during the ending ceremony; someone was being crowned by Victor Aphrodite as the greatest male dancer of the Great Sea and that someone wasn’t him. What’s more, too many had watched him fall in his attempt to fulfil his dream that day in the theatre and, although he had remained unseen until the very end, Victor had probably been hiding among their number, able witness in person or in spirit the extent of his failure. Between tears, he also wondered if the god had already learned of his former dog’s passing and if he blamed Yuuri for not taking better care of the animal which he had given to him; Victor’s own remaining dog had, after all, been alive for decades. To lose one’s pet to death, one’s chance at universal victory and the respect of one’s hero within the rise of a few suns was enough to drive anyone to misery.

He walked as far away from the noise of the celebrations as his remaining energy allowed, then rested his weary back on the side of a building. His whole body ached and his dress had a noticeable tear produced by the friction with the ground after one of his unsuccessful jumps; for Yuuri, thinking about his condition was an exercise in agony, so he decided to let himself fall asleep.

Wakefulness hit him in the hours of darkness, not long after Apollo’s chariot had set, brought by the commotion of a kick aimed beside his head.

“What are you loser doing outside the quarters of the female dancers’ division?” Yelled the slurring maiden to which the offending leg belonged.

Yuuri was too astonished to give reply.

“I am not even competing until next year, but, if it was up to me,” she said right into his face, “you would be barred from ever entering the festival again. Go away, shepherd, return to your mountains. There’s no place in Delphi for incompetents.”

The young woman turned around indignantly and proceeded to disappear inside the habitation without another word.

The episode possibly produced for Yuuri the opposite effect to the one intended. The critique had been so unnecessarily cruel that he snapped for a moment out of his hopelessness and raised his eyes above the dimming horizon. There, in the dotted vault of the early night, one dot shined brighter than the others and he recognised it as the star of the evening.

During their first meeting, Victor Aphrodite had told him that he could talk to him through that very star, but he had never tried to take advantage of the concession. For the first time since then, Yuuri felt that he had something worth saying. He collected his thoughts and delivered to the brilliant Aphrodite of the skies an apology for his failure and a prayer for a brighter future.

Lost in his appeal, he failed to realize that someone had sat next to him, holding a plate carrying a piece of bread and a bowl of milk.

“I saw you leaning on our wall for a while,” the dark form said kindly, “and I figured you could do with something to eat and drink.”

“Yes, thank you.” Yuuri answered politely, then added absentmindedly. “I know who you are.”

His benefactor was the current champion of the female dancer division, likely to renew her title the following afternoon. Yuuri still remembered the consideration she had shown to him in Olympia when she had advised his disguised persona to pursue dancing in search for happiness.

“You know who I am?” She asked with confusion, if not a bit of agitation.

“Of course, you are Chryse of Cythera. I know you by fame.” Yuuri partly deflected the question, desirous not to mention their previous encounter.

“I am surprised you know my name, Yuuri Hermes. We compete in the same contest, yet you seldom spare a look for those who share your occupation.”

“You shouldn’t be surprised, I admire your skills greatly.”

“We should have spoken, for I admire yours as well.”

“There’s very little to admire.”

“One fall doesn’t decide all of an athlete’s journey. You will get up and dance again.”

Yuuri smiled for the first time since news of his dog had reached him.

“It is a pity though that your dress is torn.” Chryse commented. “It was so beautiful. You should be more careful, learn to crash your jumps only when you are wearing an ugly costume. Do you want to come and sleep inside? I’ll have a bed prepared for you.”

Yuuri expressed his gratitude, but declined the offer.

 

“Yuuri! I’ve been looking for you.” Phichit exclaimed when he saw his friend upon entering their cabin on the Yu-topia, early in the morning. “I came after you, but you run away from the theatre so fast that I could not keep up with you. Celestino and I were so worried! We have been looking for you everywhere, this must be the fourth time I check our room. I am so relieved to have found you.”

“I am going home, Phichit.” Yuuri said with his eyes downward, bent on his bed and packing his few belongings. “I’ll make a stop on Mount Olympus first, to see if I can get myself removed from the Pantheon. I never sought that position, nor did I earn it; my appointment was but a joke to amuse the other gods.”

“My father voted for you to become a member of the Pantheon and he holds you in great esteem.”

“I’ll give your regards to your father when I meet him on Olympus.”

“You’ll have to stay here if you want to give him my regards. At night, he has been landing in Delphi for the duration of the festival.”

“Without his presence, it might be even easier to disengage myself from my obligations.” Yuuri sighed bleakly.

“The gods need you.” Phichit asserted firmly. “Humans need you. Who will replace you once you are gone? Who will protect villagers and travellers? Heralds and runners? Flocks and cattle?

“I never protected any of those groups. You are the son of Apollo, you could as well replace me.”

“Aside from my music and my stories, I’m not a powerful being and I do not wish for more power than I already have.”

“Christophe Dionysus then. He would love to sprawl on a throne.”

“He no doubt would, but then the whole Pantheon would be drunk at each and all times and none of them would be able to carry on with their duties. What if my father is too inebriated to drive and makes the sun fall down on the Earth.”

Behind his mask of sorrow, Yuuri almost chuckled at the picture.

“I am going anyway.” He said, walking past Phichit and outside the cabin, his lower lip trapped under his bite,

“If you go to Olympus,” His friend followed him when he climbed on the deck, “I will come with you. You should not be travelling alone with your heart in turmoil.”

“You would only slow me down.” Yuuri gritted through his teeth, his feet already off the ship.

“You know,” Phichit called after him, exasperated, “sometimes you need to resist against your instincts. Sometimes you don’t need to run, you need to take your time.”

At these words, Yuuri looked back pensively, remembering that he did not think of himself as someone who run away from his problems and trying to process whether the suggestion applied to his case. His thoughts were interrupted by a voice, coming from a nearby spot on the quay, which had not previously belonged to the conversation.

“Yuuri Hermes!” Was shouting an agitated man, whom he recognized as one particular Delphian crier who had pestered him in the past for information about his adventures. “Don’t give up! It’s too early for you to retire from dancing.”

Yuuri stared at the crier with perplexity.

“It’s not like I’ve made a decision. Please don’t make assumptions.” He said finally.

“We all love you and your dancing.” Phichit took the opportunity to add. Unfortunately, Yuuri reacted to the declaration with sadness and resumed walking away from the Yu-topia.

“Even the gods of Olympus love you.” His training mate said stronger, a statement with which the town crier agreed passionately, but which fell flat to the ears it was supposed to comfort.

“Do you know what the Oracle said last night?” Phichit shouted at last. “She wasn’t scheduled to make a public appearance, let alone a pronouncement, and yet she came out of her sacred house to share a sudden revelation with the people of Hellas. She said that the planet which travels close to the horizon and is the smallest visible among the stars who wander is tied to your spirit and that, from now on, it shall be named Hermes after you. People will pray to your star! Listen to those who love you reaching to you through the sky, listen to the warmth of your friends and followers.”

However, Yuuri could not listen. No terms of assurance or gestures of amity could have soothed his guilt in that moment, so he stopped walking and started running. Phichit lost sight of him in the matter of seconds.

It took a few days, but eventually Yuuri traversed Thessaly and reached Mount Olympus, were his plea was met with skepticism by the other gods.

Only a few of them were present on the mountain – with the others mostly absent to attend to the Grand Pythian Festival - and they all dismissed Yuuri’s request as ridiculous, whether because they appreciated his presence in the Pantheon or whether because they would have been annoyed at the loss of a servant. Nevertheless, they conceded him a prolongation of the leave from his divine responsibilities which they had granted him the previous year in order to travel on board of the Yu-topia, under Poseidon’s supervision.

Before the end of the assembly, Mila Athena took the opportunity to communicate a piece of knowledge to the other participants.

“I believe I have discovered the reason behind the death of Yuuri Hermes’s dog.” She said with detachment. “Even accounting for the natural variance in lifespans within the same breed, I could not help but be troubled by the comparison of those of the only two known animals of his kind. While Yuuri’s dog passed away without reaching twenty years of age, Victor Aphrodite’s still survives after a decades-long existence and, as far as health is concerned, she appears to be immortal. The evident difference between the two cases is in the lifestyle led by the creatures – one is used to live in the luxury of a palace and the other was consumed by travelling – but there is also an important distinction in their diets. What did Yuuri’s dog eat? Everything he could find, I would guess. And what does Victor’s dog eat? The answer is that, more often than not, she eats ambrosia, a substance which, albeit majorly unstudied, is known to have a number of life altering effects on the divine and mortal beings who ingest it.

Take Sara Artemis and Michele Apollo for example. The girl was fed ambrosia right after her birth and, within minutes, she had grown old enough to help her mother deliver her twin, which was fed ambrosia in turn and, the day after, had already developed into a man, ready to revenge the chase of his family and slay the serpent Python. Take the well preserved bodies of the dead heroes that have been washed with the nectar of the gods. Take Egypt, where Anubis the barker, a minor god of death, controls it, hiding who knows what arcane secrets from us.”

“Take Hebe,” Yacov Zeus added, “who serves it and dines with it and who, despite having no powers of her own and being of uncertain birth, has never aged.”

“And Hebe.” Mila Athena said slowly, eyeing her father carefully; a stare that managed to catch Yuuri’s attention.

“As an orphan of no particular talent,” Lilia Hera chimed in, “Hebe should surely consider herself lucky to have been raised on Olympus and receive all of its advantages.”

“Never mind that, now.” Mila spoke over her mother’s interruption. “I hope you will recognize the merit behind my theory on the connection between ambrosia and the length of lifespans or even possibly immortality.”

“Will Victor’s dog, at least, be fine?” Yuuri asked to the goddess.

“I believe so,” she replied, “as long as she doesn’t change her habits.”

A deep pain hunts the hearts of those who uncover the means to save their loved ones only when the time for them to act has passed and of such nature was the pain seeding inside Yuuri.

Suddenly, a crashing noise came from the perimeter of the hall – the sound of metal hitting marble pavements – and, immediately, Mari Hebe, the cupbearer of the gods, was prostrating at Yuuri’s feet.

“Forgive me for being so ignorant of the nourishment I offer.” She cried. “Had I known that your beloved companion’s life was at stake, I would have made sure that you’d have nectar to feed him every day.”

Yuuri fell on his knees and hugged her.

“I do not blame you in the least.” He said, taking her hands. “If anything, it was I who failed to pay attention to my dog’s health.”

“You could not have known.”

“You could not have known either.” Yuuri protested, then continued more quietly and close to her ear, so that only she could listen. “You have always being supportive of my dancing and of my presence here. We never had the occasion to spend much time together, but I grew to care for you like a sister and I don’t like to see you stressed or overworked. I am returning home when this meeting is over and I’d like you to come with me. Let me steal you from this horrid scene of palaces.”

“I’d love to be stolen.” She whispered back, with a thin smile. “Perhaps at a less busy time?”

“I bet my mother would love to meet you.”

“And I would love to meet her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos to charge, comments to cast!


	6. The Winged Sandals

The previous times that Yuuri Hermes had returned to Cyllene, he had been driven by the longing he felt for his birthplace; this time, the soothing powers of his home’s welcome were diminished by the decreased number of family members he knew to be going back to.

Still mourning the loss of his dog and nervous because of his terrible performance at the Grand Pythian Festival, Yuuri hoped that climbing the mountain in solitude would help him find the courage to face his mother without being overly affected by the new kind of guilt.

Much to his distress, all his hopes for a fortifying hike had been misplaced since, as soon as he reached Mount Cyllene’s roots, he was met by Minako Terpsichore who had been sent to fetch him. She greeted him with the enthusiasm of a pleased mentor, although she had no reason to be satisfied with his placement, a behaviour which confused Yuuri entirely.

“Alright!” She said, grabbing his hand and marching up, her mind set on leading the way. “You are going to greet all your admirers in the forest.”

Doubting he had any but deeming any resistance futile, he awkwardly followed her direction, limiting himself to disguise his protests as polite enquiries on her availability.

“Minako Terpsichore, do you really have time for this? What about your other students?”

“Today we are resting and I have only three pupils under my responsibility these days. They have travelled with me to Cyllene.”

Finally, before she managed to stop a group of local satyrs, Yuuri found the strength to alt the march and relent her grip.

“I’m sorry.” He stuttered. “I am tired, right now. I want to go to my mother’s cave.”

“Really? Everyone’s dying to see you.”

When they arrived at the entrance of the cave, Hiroko greeted them cordially.

“Minako, thank you for going to get him. Yuuri, it’s so nice to have you back for a while.” She said, her face full with delight. “Would you like to have a bowl of pork bits? And a bath in the hot spring tomorrow?”

“I’d love to have both the pork and the bath, but before that-”

“Oh, right, you want to pay your respects to the shrine we made for little Victor. Follow me.”

Hiroko Maia and her sisters had buried the dog under the sacred soil at the far end of a small garden to which she herself had long been tending. For a few minutes of solitude, Yuuri kneeled on the ground, ready to appeal to the goodwill of Georgi Hades, god of the underworld, and contemplate in silence the good memories of his pet and the repercussions of his mistakes.

Finished his prayers, he headed back to the cave, ready to accept the offer of his mother’s food. Since after he had started taking part in competitions, pork bits had been elevated to Yuuri’s domestic winning prize and as such he was expected to forsake them, having not placed first in any recent competition. Still, he was too grateful to turn down the unearned kindness and he went inside to consume the promised dish. It was there that he was swept by a tumultuous surprise: arms grabbed by a multitude of hands and ears deafened by loud cheers, he found himself trapped by the enthusiasm of three young maidens of identical appearance, whom he struggled to recognise as Aglaia, Thalia and Euphrosyne of Olympia, grown to about the same age at which he had met their mother. Raising his eyes, Yuuri beamed when he saw the latter seated at the far end of the hollow.

“Yuuko!” He called out, wrestling towards her under the playful attentions of her daughters. “How is it possible that you are here?”

“We couldn’t wait other four whole years to pass in order to see our dear friend and one of the most talked gods of the region.” She smiled, then adopted a scolding tone. “Girls, let him breath! I’m sorry, they are such big admirers of yours.”

“You travelled all the way from Olympia to Cyllene just to see me?” Yuuri asked her. “I know that to you that is a long distance.”

“Seeing you was only part of the motivation; I came to visit my girls. I had left them in the care of Minako Terpsichore, who is currently residing on the mountain.”

“We are going to be professional dancers.” Said Thalia. “Just like you.”

“But we are going to compete in the group category.” Aglaia specified.

The specification caused a shift to occur in Yuuri’s mood, making him lose his concentration and making his stomach suffer through a light flutter. His eyes wandered briefly around the room, carrying an internal question which he only managed to stutter just before the triplets advanced the conversation further.

“Wouldn’t you rather dance in the maiden’s singles category?” He asked. “That’s the one Aphrodite used to dance in. Its champions always gain considerable praise and long-lasting fame and you would have the opportunity to break the god’s records. I would have entered it if the possibility had been open to me.”

“I don’t see how the possibility would be closed for you.” Aglaia answered, a frown forming on her forehead.

“I am not a maiden, so I am not eligible.”

“Victor was not a maiden either and that didn’t stop him.” She said, much to the approval of her sisters, who often were of one mind as far as the disregarding of society’s rules was concerned.

Yuuri’s cheeks grew hot as he tried to formulate a suitable reply without revealing too much of his heart on the matter.

“But he was believed to be one at the time and he still behaves like he is, in part.” He said tentatively.

“Nobody stopped him when he started to take up men’s spaces and do as he pleased later.” Aglaia persisted.

“But you’d have to be Victor Aphrodite to pull that off.”

“I would do so as well, if that’s what I wanted. As for the maidens’ singles records, the prospect of taking them from Aphrodite is enticing, but that is the obvious choice and not one that really fits us. We want to compete together.”

“As partners and not as rivals.” Euphrosyne concluded.

Yuuri smiled, satisfied with their response.

“And have you already chosen the name of your group?” He proceeded to ask.

“The Charites.” The three girls declared, almost in unison.

“Because we will be so good that our performances will bestow happiness and joy to the audience.” Thalia explained.

Thalia, Aglaia and Euphrosyne began to improvise a lively dance for the hosts and the guests of the cave and Yuuri walked past the spectacle to sit next to Yuuko.

“It is so strange to think that the muse of dance accepted my daughters as her pupils.” The mother said.

“They are very skilled.” Yuuri told her.

“They are very convincing,” Minako said, joining the two friends, “and they are also very resourceful. With all the dancers in the land that request my services, I might have never discovered them had they not tricked me into watching one of their performance.”

“How so?”

“Apparently they stole one of your wigs and one of your fake beards, had a friend play the musical accompaniment of your short program and draped themselves in a cloth so that my senses would point to them as much as they are used to point to you.”

“I knew I had lost one of my disguise in Olympia, but I blamed the festival’s wine.”

“They no doubt took advantage of it. I commanded the waters of my basin to show me the performance that was calling to me, but instead of my former student, I witnessed the talent of three young promises.”

A soft thud in the small table before his seat informed Yuuri that his mother had brought him his bowl of pork bits.

“You know,” she said, beaming at her son’s appreciation of her cooking, “Minako used her powers to project the Grand Pythian Festival in the waters of our hot spring. We had a public viewing; all the creatures of the woods were invited.”

“A public viewing?” Yuuri screamed, embarrassed by the discovery.

“Everyone liked your short program.”

The bowl was finished in silence and, at the end of the meal, the young god took Hiroko Maya in the adjacent hollow.

“I am sorry mother for executing my free dance so terribly,” he said, “but I had just learned of little Victor’s death. I couldn’t handle the grief.”

“Do no worry,” she consoled him, “I knew something had to be wrong for you to not to perform well and I suspected that to be the reason. Your tension was justified and you do not owe me a victory. My love for you is unconditional.”

Although he had always been shy about his sharing his private life with others     , Yuuri had always believed his mother to be a trustworthy listener. Yet it was only then, for the first time since she had given him birth, that he saw her as a friend he could bare his heart to.

 

Yuuri had few quiet moments that evening. The main culprits behind the confusion were the triplets, who had gained height without acquiring control and responsibility. Yuuko spent much of her time reprimanding the girls for their raucous behaviour, while Minako partook of too much wine and contributed to the commotion.

Soothed by the calm darkness that had descended on Cyllene after all the guests had gone to sleep in the crowded rocky abode, Yuuri decided to go out for a run.

The woods were peaceful but not silent, governed by the chant of cicadas and the sporadic howls coming from lone nocturnal predators. The young god sped past the firs and the pines, guided by his memories and his instinct. There was no need for the sun to illuminate the path of those who knew the forest intimately and who were able to understand its calls. His spirit thrived under the cool air of the mountain, a breath that tasted of forgiveness and rebirth.

The excursion eventually brought Yuuri up to the smooth peaks which engaged with the sky without barrier. He chose one of the flattest stones to serve as his seat and stretched his arms wearily, humming a sigh of contentment.

His limbs were not the only ones moving, for he heard the sound of ruffling wings filling the void nearby. It lasted only for a few seconds, but it let Yuuri know that he was not alone.

Stealthily, he sneaked around the rocks until he found the source of the noise. Hanging by the ravine was a cosy nest hosting three sleeping eagle hatchlings, sheltered by their equally asleep parent, possibly a male, whose head was turned backwards and burrowed into its feathers. It was as cute a scene as Yuuri had seldom seen and one that he wouldn’t normally have being able to appreciate.

The birds that in childhood he had yearned to imitate had revealed to be a menace to his privacy and liberty. As he had discovered upon flying from Yacov Zeus, eagles were the mighty god’s servants and as such shared their sight with their master. Never since then had Yuuri felt safe under their stare and so he had missed their proximity.

Nevertheless, these eagles were resting with their eyes closed, unable to reveal his actions to his father, and it would do him no ill to bask for a moment in the picture of a loving family. As he gazed at their mottled moonlit plumages, he knew that he could not be afraid of those animals and that he would not hold them responsible for a fate to which they had been bound by birth. They had had no more choice in their role as Zeus’ eyes than he had had in his role as Zeus’ messenger. Adults, fledglings and hatchlings alike, in that respect, they were all innocents.

Yuuri suspected the mother to be perched somewhere in the vicinity and, not wanting to be caught staring at her littles — and, especially, not wanting to be seen — he made his way back to the forest and down to the cave.

He halted some feet before the entrance, as he had noticed a figure curled on the rocks above it.

“You did not see me resting here when you went out, but I did see you leave.” Said the figure, in the sweet voice of his dear mother.

“That happens if you hide behind me.” Yuuri answered. “How could I see you without walking backwards?”

“It doesn’t matter the way in which you leave as long as you return.”

The reminiscence of the long absences he had inflicted on his mother forced the god to lower his head in shame, in the hope that the black soil beneath would suggest him an assurance capable of bringing her comfort. Words escaped him, until he raised his eyes to look at her smiling face, the sight of which drew the banter spontaneously.

“How long have you been up there, mother?” He asked her curiously.

“Since sunset.” She said, simulating with her hand the path of Michele Apollo’s chariot. “I climbed up here to better see the planet of Hermes travel above the horizon and carry within itself the soul of my son. To be chosen as a creature of the sky is a great compliment and a great accomplishment. I am very proud of you, Yuuri.”

“You are too kind to me.” He said, climbing next to her. “I am not sure I deserve the gift with which nature has honoured me.”

“People are not the best judges of their own merits. You should rejoice in your achievement. Did you not always want to be in the sky and fly like an eagle?”

“I did, but not as far as to the stars! It must be lonely up there."

“Not all stars shine in solitude. Hermes often travels with Aphrodite.”

“But it also often travels alone.”

“The separation is only temporary; fate will eventually reunite them.”

A longer silence fell between the two, yet one that was not unpleasant and that helped Yuuri to gather the courage to ask Hiroko a question that had long been on his mind.

“Mother,” He started, “how did you know that I was a boy the day I was born? Why did you decide to give me the name of a man?”

“I never knew whether you would grow up into a man or a woman and that’s why I gave you a name that had not belonged to either. As the years passed, I just went along with the terms everyone else adopted to describe you, assuming they would be your favourite. Between your prominence and that of your half-brother, Yuri Hephaestus, the name became increasingly common for young human boys, but it was not originally meant as such.”

“I wish I had known that earlier. For me, the process was fairly similar. While I lived here with you on Cyllene, I had no knowledge or expectations of my place in our partitioned society. For a period, I wasn’t aware men and women existed. Maybe I wanted to be like you, but, most of all, I wanted to be my own free person. Then, the first time I met Yacov Zeus, he addressed to me using the masculine form, as did humans I later met in my travel.

I resemble the men I have met during my life in many ways, even in ones I’d rather not. I am a bit like the satyrs, I am a bit like Michele Apollo and I am a bit like my father. But I also resemble the women. I feel like there is a lot of you in my character. There is a lot of Minako and of Yuuko and there is a lot of Mari Hebe, of whom you still have to make the acquaintance.

Yet, the one being to which I experience a stronger kindredness is Victor Aphrodite and he’s both a man and a woman. That is a lot closer to how I feel.”

“If that’s how you feel, that’s what you are.” Hiroko determined.

The night had embraced Peloponnesus for some hours, a cover under which Yuuri’s boldness increased tenfold.

“I have a secret that I haven’t shared with anyone.” He said abruptly, his features dark and their expression inscrutable.

 “Are you planning on sharing it with me now?” His mother asked.

“I think so. I need to talk about it with someone, because I have to take an important decision and my secret lies right at its base. You do know of how often I disguise myself during my travels, so that humans will not recognise me.”

“You have told me.”

“Sometimes, I wear a short wig and a long beard. It makes them think of me as a wise man.”

“In a way you are.”

“But, far more often than one would guess, I also don the dresses of women, under a cascade of silky hair. I wear their cosmetics and I wear their jewels. Then, when I walk amongst humans, they think of me as beautiful girl.”

“You say you wear their dresses and their jewels, but, if it’s you the one who is wearing them, they are your dresses and jewels.”

“They are, thank you for understanding. Does my behaviour shock you?”

“Not in the least, you always used to steal my clothes as a child. I concluded that you enjoyed wearing them. Has this conversation helped you to take that decision you were talking about?”

Yuuri hummed, his thoughts on the tip of his tongue.

“What would you think, mother, if I moved from dancing into the men’s singles category to dancing into the maidens’ singles one?” He enquired dubiously.

“Is that what you want?” She pried in a challenging tone.

“I think that dancing in the men’s singles category was the obvious choice, but not the one that fits me the most.”

“Then you have already decided.”

“Should I tell Minako? Who else can I trust to train me to victory? I don’t think Celestino is the right choice for me.”

“I don’t think she would ever deny you her help.”

In the morrow, Yuuri Hermes informed his former and original mentor about the incoming change in his artistic career and requested for a renewal of their student-teacher relationship. She was sceptical at first, but became enthusiastic after Yuuri finished sharing with her his reasons for the transition and his plan for the new season. Yuuri’s argument followed that, first, he should do it because he had always liked the maidens’ techniques more, which also meant he had a lead to execute them better; second, it had been Victor Aphrodite and Chryse of Cythera who had inspired him to train as a professional dancer and he wanted participate in their category in order to beat their scores; third, he didn’t want it to be known that he had decided to return to competition after his disastrous display at the Grand Pythian Festival, with all the expectations that were laid on him because of his divinity — as a girl, he would be able to fight for victory in secrecy and serenity.

The scheme’s implementation begun without delay. The very day of his announcement, Yuuri asked for the assistance of the muse of dance, hopeful that she would be able to supply a precious piece of much desired artistic knowledge.

“Minako,” He said, “could you and would you teach me the choreography of Victor Aphrodite’s last public performance? You saw it, didn’t you?”

“That routine is older than the Olympic games!” She exclaimed, raising her eyebrow.

“You think you might not remember it that well?”

“It has been more than two decades and Victor used to dance so much and with so many different movements that with time they have all become confused in my mind. I suspect he still dances, one cannot stop doing altogether something they love so dearly, but I believe he does not want to be observed and has found a way to cut my influence and my connection to his current performances.”

“That’s a pity. It was the highest ranked performance ever and it would have been an amazing program to study in preparation for the next Grand Pythian Festival, had you remembered it.”

“I didn’t say I could not show you. I can summon even lost recollection in the waters.” Minako grinned smugly.

“Can you really do that?” Yuuri asked, excitement flowing through his veins, an invisible force getting in and out of his body via is omega-shaped mouth.

“Of course I can do that! Let’s go to the spring.”

They trotted to the secluded pond inside Hiroko Maya’s cavern and kneeled at its edge. Minako grazed the calm surface with her hands, giving rise to many small creases carrying between them vague patches of colour. Unlike the reflection of a still observer, when those patches acquired stability of substance, they did so in a constantly changing moving picture.

“Sorry I cannot project the performance with its original accompaniment.” Minako said. “I can only add sounds with the help of my sister Euterpe, who presides over music, provided that she witnessed the act.”

Her apology flied past Yuuri, too engrossed in the reproduction to pay her any attention. In the spring had appeared the embodiment of beauty, attired in an unearthly bright pink ensemble of military inspiration, comprised of gold decorations and sparkling transparent covers. There was the Victor he had long admired, precise and ethereally graceful, his then-long hair tucked in tresses circling around his head.

The first time, Yuuri watched the performance enraptured, unable to concentrate on anything more than the emotions it evoked on him, its impact vivid despite the obfuscation of the water. The second time, he made a point of making a preliminary analysis of the choreography. The third time, he let his mind wander about the meaning behind it.

“I heard the accompanying piece was a song about aching for a beloved one.” He told Minako. “Something about the despair stemming from solitude.”

“It was called ‘Stay Close To Me’ and it was quite a dramatic piece. It was also the year in which the lyre was invented and Victor Aphrodite was one of the first dancers to back his routines with the instrument.”

Yuuri blushed at the discovery.

“He adopted my invention without even knowing my identity.”

“As often is the case with inventors and their beneficiaries. So, what did you think of the program as a whole?”

The question put Yuuri in great difficulty, as Victor’s dancing had affected him in more than one way, not all of which he was inclined to share with his mentor.

“Technically, it’s impressive.” He finally said.

“This routine does hold the best score at the Grand Pythian Festival after all.”

“I will learn it.”

“Are you sure you want to start with such an advanced combination of moves? The quadruple flip, Victor’s signature jump, is pretty much out of your reach.”

“And yet I will make it my own. It will be the perfect occasion for me to get familiar with the maidens’ techniques.”

Yuuri did as he had said and, within a fortnight, he had mastered the basic outline of the choreography, even though he was forced to downgrade the difficulty of some jumps, bringing the rotations from four to tree.

The occasion for him to perform the dance in front of an audience came with the informal banquet held in Yuuko’s honour the evening before her leaving. She had had a nice stay, but it was time for her to return in Olympia where her husband had been looking after their house.

“I will miss my daughters,” she confided to Yuuri during the goodbye dinner, “but I also miss Takeshi and I always knew that eventually my girls would find their path in life away from my own.”

The triplets animated the feast and provided entertainment of their own, staging a short play tailored to their mother’s propensities to tragedy and sense of humour. Yuuri’s exhibition had been scheduled as the final act of the night and brought to his family and friends all the joy of beholding the fruits of effort and artistry. Aglaia, Thalia and Euphrosyne cheered for the god with the same strength of a multitude and so did Yuuko and Hiroko, albeit with a little more dignity. On the other hand, Minako Terpsichore, who had already watched her student dance aplenty in the previous days, had preferred instead to drink herself into a stupor on wine and her words of praise came forth strident and inconsistent.

Aside from this private spectacle, according to his wish, Yuuri’s intention to compete in the maidens’ category had not gone past Minako and Hiroko’s ears.

Overall, he felt satisfied with his situation and his progress, while knowing full well that he had walked but the first steps towards contending for victory at the following Grand Pythian Festival.

 

Two days after Yuuko’s departure, the grounds of Mount Cyllene were greeted by a new arrival.

Yuuri Hermes had been sitting by his dog’s grave in the small garden in which he had been buried, with his eyes closed and his mind focused on listening to the prayers that had been forwarded to him by the people of Hellas, when he heard a familiar voice calling out for his name.

“Yuuri! There you are.” Mari Hebe exclaimed after spotting him. “It sure took a while to find you! I arrived a while ago at the entrance of your cave, but nobody was there. I was afraid I had travelled to the wrong mountain!”

“Mari!” Yuuri shouted back. “It is so nice to see you! My mother must be hunting in the woods and Minako must be teaching her new students somewhere nearby. I apologise if we made you come looking for us. What brings you here?”

“A commission from the gods. Who else would they send when their messenger has taken time off from his duties?”

“If you came for a commission, does this means that you will leave as soon as it is seen through?”

“Oh no, I’ve actually been given permission to remain for up to a month, if I so desire. You are not the only one who is in need of a break.” She laughed drily.

“Those are good news.” Yuuri said, his heart beating unexpectedly fast. “I can’t wait to show you around, to introduce you to mother.”

Side by side, they walked for a few minutes, heading back to the cavern. Yuuri pointed to her the most peculiar slopes along the path, the family’s herd, the grapevines and a number of trees that he used to climb as a child, a past time which they discovered to have in common.

“But you have to explain to me, Yuuri,” Mari begun, as if she had been holding a question on the tip of her tongue for far too long, “what you were trying to do with your stunt the other night.”

“What do you mean by ‘my stunt’?” The other asked, confused by her tone, the subject and the implicated frame of time.

“I am talking about your reproduction of Victor Aphrodite’s old free dance.”

“What?” Yuuri shrieked, losing his colour from head to toes.

“What do you mean ‘what’?” Mari probed. “It’s the talk of Olympus!”

“What? How? How do you even know about my dance?”

“How would I not know! Your performance was projected on every other body of water in the region. Humans reported its sighting too.”

Yuuri felt like fainting from embarrassment. He had meant the performance to be a private study, aimed at his growth as an artist and not to be watched by anybody outside of his closest circle. For one lucid instant, the god wondered about the possible causes of this incident, but, within seconds, he was overwhelmed by the consequences. One in particular thundered in his mind, pervading him with fear and urging him to seek shelter from reality: that if everybody in Hellas had seen the projection, so had Victor.

“I was cleaning the cups at the Pantheon’s palace, as I often do,” Mari continued, only partly aware of his torment, “and suddenly you were there, swaying in the basin. I was pretty tired, mind you, so for a moment I was afraid of having fallen victim to delirium, but it turned out that Lilia had seen you in her soup as well.”

When she stopped to look at her companion, she found him hiding his face behind his hands. Unimpressed by the reason at the root of his distress, Mari sighed audibly and turned the other way in order to rummage into a large sack which hanged from her shoulder. With an exclamation of satisfaction, she produced a light brown item out of it and presented it to Yuuri.

“This is my commission.” She said. “A gift for you, from Yurio.”

“What does Yuri Hephaestus want from me?” The god lamented.

“Just raise your eyes and see it for yourself.”

Yuuri warily removed his hands from his face and spared a look at the object in Mari’s. It was an exquisite pair of finely crafted leather sandals, the likes of which he had never seen in terms of taste and durability.

 “He did not say so, but I know he manufactured them himself.” Mari explained. “The message he told me to convey instead is that he saw the projection, that he thinks you are an idiot and that you should stop going around barefoot like you couldn’t afford any better.”

“Well, who am I to refuse a good pair of sandals, made especially for me by the god of artisans himself.” Yuuri said as his fingers trailed over the nice texture of the shoes.

“He also sends you a padded helmet, to protect your head from the many falls you will undoubtedly have while attempting to do jumps far beyond your capabilities.”

“Very funny. “ He said, accepting the helmet and wearing it back-to-front in jest, effectively covering his eyes with its rear. “I should definitively give him my thanks when I see him, but, then again, I can’t see anything.”

Mari laughed at the joke and then she laughed at the multiple jokes that were made after that and at Yuuri’s continued pretence of blindness throughout their way to the cave. Despite all the recent misfortunes, they were having a good time.

“Be careful! Or you will hit something!” She cried after him, her lines deep with mirth.

“I won’t! I know this mountain better than I know myself! And, in any case, what would a collision do to me when I have this helmet to protect me?”

Yuuri knew they had arrived by the entrance of the cave, when he was caught by surprise and bumped into a soft obstacle, one that he knew for a fact ought not to be there. He lifted his hands to pat the obstruction; only as he was feeling it, he realized too late that he was clutching his fingers to a face.

Without warning, his helmet was lifted from his head and he regained his sight, which was immediately filled by the very vision of Victor Aphrodite, resting Hephaestus’ gift on his chest and looking at him quizzically.

Aphrodite’s vision smoothed Yuuri’s hair and put the helmet back in place with the correct orientation, an action material enough to convince him of its reality.

“You are very pretty in it.” Victor finally said, taking Yuuri in from his bare feet to the headdress.

Red and hot as the fire of a forge, the other muttered a small thank you and lowered his gaze.

“He also has new shoes!” Mari shouted, holding the sandals high in the air.

“Bring them here!” Victor shouted back, his mouth wide like a drawn bow. “We are going to try them on!”

Before he could disengage himself from the situation, Yuuri found himself with his leg raised, giving access to his foot to a kneeling Victor, who proceeded to tie one sandal around his ankle and then to do the same with the other.

“He offered to drive me here.” Mari said, pointing at the golden chariot parked close by, the swan at the reins relaxing between the grass next to their master’s dog and encircled by a swarm of Olympus’ doves, the sacred deliverers of ambrosia.

A quiet moment passed by in which the three of them were each absorbed in their own mood, until the chatter coming from an approaching group of people recalled them to their time and place. Said group was comprised of Hiroko Maia, Minako Terpsichore and her three pupils.

“Yuuri,” Hiroko exclaimed upon sighting them, “do we have visitors?”

“Yes, mother.” He answered carefully. “It’s Victor Aphrodite and Mari Hebe, the cupbearer of gods. I had invited her stay with us for a while and she decided to take advantage of our hospitality.”

With a move that confused most of the bystanders, Mari included, Hiroko welcomed the girl by throwing her arms around her and hiding her face in her shoulder. When she eventually relented her grip, Yuuri realized that, under a façade of cheerfulness and cordiality, she was trembling from her skin to her very core, her eyes red with tears withheld. He believed he understood the cause of his mother’s reaction, as it supported a suspicion that he had long held, but which he had always refrained from expressing. The size of her pain made him feel guilty for having contributed to it in the past with his long absence.

“Yuuri has told me so much about you.” Hiroko said, squeezing the girl’s hands in her own. “I am glad to make your acquaintance. Please stay for as long as you wish.”

 

The mystery of the widespread projection was explained by the triplets soon after, who admitted to having coaxed their teacher into fiddling with her powers in her state of drunkenness the evening of the performance.

Yuuri and Victor had been left in each other’s company on the front meadow and had chosen a fallen trunk that Hiroko had brought from the woods to serve as their support. Too embarrassed by his long-lasting feelings and by the indication of their existence in the recent incident, the former decided to dump all efforts of carrying a conversation on the latter.

Strangely enough, Victor picked up a topic one would consider uncharacteristic of his usual disposition.

“I am worried, Yuuri,” he said, “that the gods from the east will move against us and seek dominion over the Hellenic region. Yacov has been talking a lot about the possibility as of lately. They are older and stronger than us, while we have come out of the Titanomachy but three decades ago; we cannot afford a conflict with them.”

“We should be careful, however I don’t see a war been declared anytime soon.” The other said. “They already have a multitude of reigns to look after, empires even. They do not need power over our own few scattered folks.”

“Yet, if humans desire that power, they will pray to their gods and ask for it. You know how much human devotion can strengthen a god’s position in terms of energy, offerings and armed forces, don’t you?”

“During my past visit, they welcomed me with friendliness. The goddess Ishtar also enquired about your beauty and expressed interest in meeting you.”

“In a friendship without parity of assets, control can be achieved through cooperation. Right now, they are satisfied with our conduct, but what if we do not comply with their wishes?”

“Did they express any?”

“I know of one of no consequence, but Yacov let me in on the fact that it was not an isolated case. One day, they will start making demands of consequence.”

Yuuri studied him carefully, his senses sharps and his shyness momentarily forgotten.

“It is uncommon for you to be so dark.” He said. “I know my word doesn’t mean much, but I don’t think danger is imminent.”

 “And yet I am afraid.” Victor stated, seizing Yuuri’s hand. “I am afraid that you might be sent to deal with the eastern gods and I dread what might happen to you once you are alone in their territory. They must know how precious you are to Olympus and they might either harm you or detain you.”

“Why would they detain me?”

“For your trade value.”

Yuuri was moved, for he felt genuine concern in the tone of Victor’s voice and in the weight of his fingers above his. Even if he doubted that anyone on Olympus would be willing to pay a ransom to save him, his father included, the sentiment was appreciated.

“If I’m sent to deal with the eastern gods,” He said with the tiniest of smiles, “I’ll be back before you notice my absence.”

“I could never not notice your absence!” Victor protested.

Their wide eyes locked at the exclamation, shocked by the other’s take on the subject.

“Are you staying on Cyllene too?” Yuuri blurted, breaking the moment and releasing his hand from Victor’s grasp. He quickly realized that the question had come out blunter than he had intended. “I meant that as an invitation.”

“I accept it!” The god answered promptly. “I can’t wait to see how much the place has changed. Is there a klinē?”

“No. I mean, our beds are stuffed with coarse wool, our bath is a cavity in the mountain and we have a scarcity of exotic fruits. Do you think you will survive to all that?”

“I think I will, if you assure me it will all come along with a lot of dancing. We absolutely have to exchange tips on our techniques.”

Victor stood up from the trunk and extended his hand towards Yuuri. Yuuri stared at it for some seconds and then decided that, if Victor could take a few days away from the comforts of his palace, he could indulge for a few days in a much-desired luxury.

 

Mari Hebe and Victor Aphrodite’s permanence on Cyllene brought to its inhabitants renewed joy and companionship.

On their first meal, the two guests were immediately served Hiroko’s famous bowls of pork bits and wine sauce, which were a novelty to Mari’s stomach, but an old acquaintance of Victor’s.

“Did I not tell you that her cooking was on par with ambrosia?” He told the cupbearer.

“You did tell me.” She responded plainly “I fact you told me that it was better than ambrosia. Still, you are forgiven, now that I can vouch for the accuracy of the opinion. If Yuuri’s mother will be so I kind as to teach me her recipe, I would love to prepare it for the gods of Olympus.”

“Just don’t serve it to Yuuri, though.” Minako interrupted. “He’s only allowed to eat it after he wins a competition because he gains weight easily.”

“So, have you eaten these pork bits recently?” Victor asked him.

“Yes, yes. I eat them frequently.” He answered.

“Why? You haven’t won anything.” Victor observed absent-mindedly, lost in the taste spreading through his mouth.

The comment hurt Yuuri and reminded him that, despite his sweetness, the god of love and beauty could often be unintentionally tactless.

Somewhat dejected, he trailed after Mari when she went outside to feed the doves that had followed her from Olympus.

“I do hope some of them have stayed at the Pantheon’s palace.” She said. “If there is a shortage of ambrosia, I will be called back home immediately. Unfortunately, these birds have been trained to bring their blessed food to me and, as a symbol of love, they are sacred to Aphrodite and seek out his company. Between his absence and mine, it seems that most of the flock has decided to migrate with us.”

The succeeding days, Mari spent much of her time with Minako, Hiroko and the triples, while Yuuri and Victor roamed alone on Mount Cyllene, with the aim to visit all the best sites for training.

Yuuri was amazed at the amount of exercise Victor underwent routinely. Strangely enough and quite wrongly, he had assumed that strength and poise had naturally come to the god, as none of the myths mentioned his preparation and all almost depicted him as born a fully-fledged dancing legend. Together they run, worked on their musculature and challenged their equilibrium, sometimes from morning till darkness, when they would retreat to the hot spring for a hard-earned restoring bath.

He also had the chance to experience, without the urgency that had always accompanied them, the god’s more playful side. Towering over one of the clearings at which they had stopped during one of their excursions, Victor spotted the ruins of an old construction.

“Yuuri, what’s that fortification over there?”

“That’s Cyllene’s Phrourion.” He answered, eager to impress the other with his knowledge. “Inside it’s a Satyrs house,”

“Really? Satyrs?”

At Victor’s insistence, they approached the phourion so that he could be introduced to the goat-legged creatures living within it.

The satyrs welcomed them with open arms, flute melodies, cups of wine and an invite to join their dances for the hours to come, an encounter that later evolved into a feast in honour of their divine guests.

Among the kind, Yuuri had many admirers, including the dyed-haired Kenjirou Pan, to him previously known as the faceless carrier who had delivered the news of his dog’s death. The young satyr took a great amount of pride in his profession and appeared to be upset when he heard the messenger of the gods refer to them as unacquainted, going on to bemoan that they had in fact once run across the forest side by side.

Charged by the rustic music, Yuuri and Victor drank and danced together, having the time of their life and handling themselves with an unprecedented level of closeness.

The morning after, the first admitted to not remembering much about the last quarter of the previous day, as his memory was often negatively affected by inebriation.

Taking advantage of the incoming summer, the pair also decided to employ the golden chariot to take a short trip to Peloponnesus’ northern seaside. The waters there were warm enough for bathing, allowing the two to shed their clothing and go for a swim.

“I’ve had the privilege of enjoying your hot spring, it was only fair that I brought you to the shore.” Victor said as they rested on the rug-covered pebbles after the exertion. “Since my rescue mission was aborted, I never made good on my invitation to host you in my southern palace, where we could go strolling on the beach every day. The sands are fine in my withdrawn corner and you can lie or walk on them comfortably without protection. I will be happy to arrange your stay when you feel better, if Olympus and Cyllene can spare you.”

In all these little adventures, they were accompanied by Victor Aphrodite’s own sheep-dog, who went by the name of Makkachin. The dog had always been larger than Yuuri’s, but, due to the peculiarities of the species and its uniqueness, she still reminded him a lot of his late pet; he fell for her nevertheless, conquered by her cuteness and affability. She took to following him around the Cyllene’s grounds almost as much as she did her owner and often joined him to sleep in his humble bed.

When the time came for Mari Hebe and Victor Aphrodite to leave at Zeus’ pressing request, the whole group saw to their departure. Affectionate embraces were exchanged by all except between Yuuri and Victor, who preferred to quietly bow their goodbye.

As the Olympian visitors boarded the chariot, Yuuri stood in the foreground with a vacant face, contemplating the effects of their separation. On the back of the basket was the woman he loved like a sister and whom his mother loved like a daughter, taking away from their mountain joviality as she had brought it and leaving him with just a pair of new sandals. On the front was the receiver of all of Yuuri’s most amorous sentiments and carnal impulses, who likewise stood behind the reins sporting an undecipherable expression. Doves rustled all around them and, when he could no longer look at those he cherished within the carriage, his eyes settled on a couple of doves resting close together on its border.

The draft swans flapped their wings and run forward, taking flight and lifting the chariot from up in the air. Yuuri’s eyes never left the two doves as the vehicle rose higher and farther from the cave, as Mari yelled her last send-offs, as Victor’s figure grew smaller and smaller. They never left the two doves as the two birds detached from their flock and headed back to Cyllene, towards the cave and towards him. His eyes were still on the two doves when they lowered on the ground at full speed and crashed each with one of his feet, in an explosion of sparkles.

For a moment, Yuuri lost control over his legs as they did the bid of its own shoes. When the initial shock dissipated, he realized that the back of both sandals was now adorned by a pair of fluttering wings, as if the doves had fused with them.

With so short a notice, Yuuri started to levitate, struggling to maintain the balance on his feet, swinging back and forth and eventually falling hard on the grass. Disoriented, he found himself surrounded by the household.

“Are you hurt?” Hiroko asked.

“It’s nothing, mother.” Yuuri answered.

“It’s nothing!” Minako shouted at the distant golden chariot, which appeared to be slowing down to better observe the events. “Drive on or you’ll be late!”

“Yuuri! Your shoes are alive!” Aglaia cried, pointing at the still moving sandals.

“At least you didn’t end up hanging upside-down from them.” Thalia said encouragingly.

“Did you hit your head?” Euphrosyne wondered.

“Yes, my dear,” his mother intervened, “are you sure you do not have a concussion?”

“I am, I never really hurt myself.” Yuuri said, a glint of mirth showing in the curvature of his lips. “But, just in case, I think I should wear a helmet.”

 

“Keep your hips onward, stretch your arms and do not look down.” Minako ordered, as Yuuri attempted to find his equilibrium on the flying winged sandals, head straight and protected by Hephaestus’ helmet.

Once he had managed to hold his position for a minute, he lowered himself until his feet touched the soil.

“I think I am getting better at his.” He said to his teacher. “I can even properly land whenever I wish to now. How do you think that is possible?”

“You mean that you are confused as to whose will the wings follow?”

“Yes. At first, they appeared to have a will of their own, but now I am not so sure. I feel like I have the ability to govern them.”

“Let us hope so, because we have to train for your next dancing season and there is only so much time we can dedicate to these sandals.”

“Yes, that is true. I could theoretically just remove them, but they are such a beautiful work of art that I would be sad to replace them. Besides, they could turn out to be very useful.”

“It’s a pity that the doves united with an item worn right at the bottom of your body.” Minako commented. “It would be much easier for you to stay up if the wings were located at its top.”

“They should have gone in the helmet.” Yuuri joked.

“Well, we could still ask of some other doves to sacrifice themselves for your new headdress!”

“I wouldn’t ask this service of any more creatures than those who offer it spontaneously.”

“I bet there are many eager to serve you.”

“And I don’t want to pressure them. Just because I am a member of the Pantheon it doesn’t mean that-”

“Watch out!” Minako shouted over him, pointing at the sky behind his back.

Yuuri felt a sudden weight drop on his helmet, but, due to the metallic barrier, he could not make out its origin.

“What’s on my head?” He asked with urgency.

Minako stayed silent, a reaction that increased his worry.

“What’s on my head?” He repeated, flailing his arms at its sides.

“Stay calm!” The muse said at last.  “It’s just an eagle and an incredibly small one.”

“Help me send it away.” Yuuri pleaded. “It won’t move!”

“I can’t!”

“Why? Just scare it away!”

“It is merging with the helmet.”

“How?” Yuuri screamed. “Make it stop!”

“I told you I can’t, it is already half in it and it is going to merge further. I can barely see its beak and… There, it’s done.”

The menacing weight had sensibly diminished and Yuuri removed all the encumbrance from his head.

“My helmet!” Yuuri exclaimed, once he could look at the item. “It has wings!”

“We had but to ask!” Minako exulted, before noticing the distress in her pupil’s face. “But you do not look happy about it.”

“It’s because they are eagle’s wings.”

“What about it?”

Yuuri hushed her with an almost imperceptible gesture. He knew that eagles were still his father’s servant and obligated spies. He considered the situation at hand for a few seconds, debating whether he should be afraid of the helmet and the power that Zeus would gain over his life if he kept it in his proximity, then he came to a conclusion: Zeus had the gift of seeing through eagles’ eyes and, although the helmet contained the soul of the bird, it did not possess its eyes, therefore he believed it to be safe.

“It’s nothing.” He said breaking the silence. “It’s just that I am always behave cautiously around eagles, lest they reveal my actions to my father, but this one I can trust.”

Having explained himself, he proceeded to wear the helmet once again. Just like for the sandals, he could feel the life and energy of its occupant and revelled in the experience. Slowly, he willed himself to rise and succeeded in his effort.

“You were right, Minako, my balance is already improving.”

“That’s fantastic!” She said. “You could even learn some aerial dances and perform them at exhibitions held after major competitions.”

“Not when I compete under an alias.”

“Oh, about that, have you already decided on a name?”

“Yes, I have.” Yuuri said, biting his lower lip. “It’s Peitho, a word which recalls temptation and seduction.”

“And why is that? You never even had a lover.” Minako enquired with a frown.

“Because I am going to dance with unprecedented passion and because I want to honour the god of love and the goals he inspired me reach.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos to charge, comments to cast!


	7. The Thief

Every disguise under which Yuuri Hermes had hidden his identity had been to him a matter of great commitment and no less time and resources were dedicated to bringing to life the enthralling and beautiful Peitho. In order to lend plausibility to the new character, he made it his plan to spend some days in Delphi, so that it could be introduced to the dancing community as an aspiring contender early in the preparations for the next season, rather than appear out of nowhere at the start of the qualifying events for the Grand Pythian Festival. The move would allow Peitho to build a reputation gradually and slip into the net of performers without attracting excessive speculation.

The visit would also serve the purpose of paying his respects to the Oracle as his own person to thank her for announcing his astronomic ties to a wandering star right after his disastrous loss at the competition, a gesture of gratefulness that had been suggested to him by Victor Aphrodite, who, despite his often absent-minded personality, always had a good word of advice for maintaining strong human-divine relations.

As he desired privacy, but did not have the means to rent a place of his own, Minako Terpsichore offered him a room at her large residence in the centre of the polis: a two-storey mansion complete with a yard, a pool and an area designated for training.

The muse and her pupils — who had cleverly discovered Yuuri's plans for the season — determined to join him during his stay and departed from Cyllene ahead of their friend to compensate for their slowness. The arrangement made it so that all travellers arrived at destination on the same day and were ready to shop for fabrics and pins together the morning after, an essential step to adapt Yuuri Hermes’ wardrobe to Peitho’s requirements.

In the afternoon, the party returned home and retired in his upstairs room in front of a human-sized mirror to try on the new purchases and fit them in such a way that would compliment his frame. An abundant deal of fabric was shuffled around and let to lay disorganizedly on the floor or used to drape the triplets’ shoulders, as they played the role of rich maidens out of their teacher’s purse, while she judged her older student’s outfits.

“Appropriate, but not seductive.” Minako commented on the light grey robe with blue trimmings that Yuuri was wearing as his current pick.

“This is an every-day style of clothing,” He said with indifference, “it’s not meant to be seductive. That is what my stage costume will have to do.”

“Still, it wouldn’t hurt for you to wear something a little more revealing.”

“I am trying to build a reputation as a professional dancer, not as a courtesan. What do you think of my wig? I’m afraid I will have to choose another to lessen the chances of being recognized, being this as black as my natural hair colour.”

“Not with your oriental features, unless you want to attract more attention to it than necessary. We don’t want anybody question its authenticity.”

“Besides, passing from short to long hair alone can really make a difference.” Said Aglaia, who was helping braiding it up according to the latest fashions. “I could not have guess your identity when I first saw you wearing the wig, even if I had seen you put it on.”

“I bet it’s mostly due to the make-up.” Said Euphrosyne. “It changed the contrasts and contours of your face.”

“Let’s not forget about the perfumes.” Thalia added. “He has never smelled so nice since we have known him.”

The three girls laughed at the mean-spirited joke, which did not seem to vex its object, but made them the target of their teacher’s humour in turn.

“None of you smelled nice until you got hold of my perfumes,” Minako teased, “but it is true that he smells unusual.”

“These are scents from the Assyrian empire.” Yuuri explained. “I received them as gifts from some merchants I met in my journey. My cosmetics are also foreign; I got most of my powders in the city of Babylon.”

The triplets gasped at the revelation, but were quickly hushed by Minako.

“A topic which served to remind me that we should rehearse Peitho’s background story.” She said. “How old are you, in character?”

“Twenty-three.” Yuuri answered promptly, being the correct answer quite close to his real age.

“And where do you come from?” Minako continued.

“The far east, farther than Assyria and Babylonia.”

“And what is the land like there?”

“The sea in Hellas reminds of the sea of my homeland, but the people there are very different. The rich wear robes made of cocoon fibre and the most common dish is a kind of white grain, rinsed and boiled.”

“You may be asked to elaborate on those points.”

“And I will. I have travelled in those regions.”

The muse took in Yuuri’s determination with satisfaction, then her stare returned to his outfit.

“We should probably get our hands on some exotic fabrics ourselves,” she said, “for one of your dances at least.”

“Can that wait until tomorrow?” He moaned with a loud yawn. “I’m rather tired and I would like to rest.”

“So be it.” Minako said, clapping her hands shut. “Girls, let’s go practice.”

It was not that Yuuri had been too exhausted to discuss his act further, but he had dealt for almost a full day with the chaos found amidst the polis and within the company of people; fatigue was as good an excuse as any other to spend the remainder of the evening in solitude.

He paced through the room, lost in thoughts which spanned from the memories of his past travels to the expectations he nurtured concerning his career as a dancer and the experiences that the vocation would bring into his future. For all the love he bore for the art, there still was the fear in his heart that he would not be able to succeed in mastering it. As he walked, he unravelled the tresses Aglaia had fixed on his head to comb through them. When the sky darkened, he stopped by the window and leaned on the sill, a raised spot that offered him both a good view of the street below and of the starred sky.

For all their devotion to astronomy and the gods, sometimes the inhabitants of Delphi appeared uncaring about the vastness of the universe and the spiritual nature of its objects, preferring to live through the evening as if nothing mattered in the world but their own enjoyment. Yuuri found fairness in such attitude, for humanity was its own species and had no obligation towards divine beings.

On the other quieter side of the room laid a piece of parchment to which he longed to give his attention. He had learned to read and write almost as soon as he had learned to stand and, from then on, he had always found in the two activities extreme pleasure. Words, spoken or inscribed, were an instrument that he cultivated with constancy and had ultimately served him well in his occupation as a messenger. One day, he hoped that the skill would diffuse among humans, be them nobles or be them farmers.

Following his wish, he sat by the parchment, retrieved his pen and inked it carefully. Brimming with emotion, he yearned to pour out his feelings and free his chest of its tumultuous contents, but, somehow, at this time, words weren’t coming as easily to him as they usually did. Perhaps, he thought, that was due to the partly romantic origin of his anxieties and that on the topic of love his tongue would always remain tied and his fingers rigid.

He moved once again, this time towards the basin, where he removed his wig and washed his face of his make-up. Returned to his old appearance, he glanced at himself in the mirror to find his features sober but still reddened by the recent friction; the lucidity of his eyes finally convinced him to seek rest in the softness of the bed Minako had had prepared for him.

Before extinguishing the lamp, his last look went to the winged helmet and sandals with which he had been provided, and, before losing himself to sleep, his last thoughts went from his fears to Victor’s and the worries he had expressed over the eastern Gods.

 

In the morning, Yuuri put on a simple white chiton and his sandals, on which he had learned to walk without lifting, then went downstairs for breakfast. Bread and fruits were partaken by the residents of the house, a nice meal accompanied by some music and more talk about fabrics and envisioned costumes.

When Minako and the triplets retired in the training room, he lingered in the courtyard with his lyre, plucking its strings lazily, as one who had slept late and whose body was still dozy. The servants were too busy to appreciate his melody and the fishes in the pool were too immersed in their own world to pay it any attention.

Regrettably, inventing an instrument did not make its creator automatically proficient in its use and, when proficiency was reached — such as in Yuuri Hermes’ case — that did not mean that they would also achieve wondrous and unparalleled skills. While he was recognised as a brilliant musician, to his friend Phichit Orpheus went the glory of an ever-growing fame as the most talented lyre player of the Hellenic region. The sounds he produced were so full of bliss that people and animals alike were said to stop by his side to listen to his songs, a legend of which Yuuri could attest the veracity and he had no doubt that, if Phichit’s had been the one controlling the plectrum, the servants would have been persuaded to leave their duties and the fish to jump out of the water to better hear the fine tune.

Even his accomplishment as a creator was diminished in light of the discovery that, in other parts of the world, human kind had already made significant advancements in the field of music and designed instruments which incorporated many of the elements he had independently come up with. Instead of oval turtle shells, some peoples built the soundbox out of wood and cut it in a more rectangular shape. The number of strings also varied, but not the underlining concept. From his researches it seemed that, at some point in the past centuries, these variations were also spread in Hellas.

He might have been born a deity and grown into a figure venerated by humanity, but he felt young comparing to its age. He could not say for how many millennia humans had existed, if not thousands of millennia, nor how many kings had ruled over each polis. He could not say how many different peoples or different kind of creatures had governed their land.

Compared to divine beings, he felt even younger. Although they held control over it, the gods themselves were ignorant about the origins of the world and those who came before them. The story as it was told was that their progeny had started with Uranus, a behated spirit of the sky, whose abuses to earth and his children ended several decades earlier at the hand of a son, Nikolai Kronos, who in turn abused his offspring and was deposed by his son Yacov Zeus. While the Titanomachy — the war in which the current generation of gods had battled and defeated the previous — was directly experienced by their parents, whatever happened before then was nothing more than a myth, of which the truthfulness could never be verified.

Travels of the mind aside, the day’s main concern was to enquire on whether Phichit was currently residing in Delphi, for Yuuri had not seen him since the Grand Pythian Festival and he felt guilty about the unpleasant manner of his departure. He attempted a smile at his tired reflection in the pool to give himself the courage to apologize for his behaviour, only to watch it turn into a frown as he heard a prolonged scream coming from the storey above.

He rushed upstairs and followed the shriek up to his room. It was empty from corner to corner, whereas the upheaval took place just outside the window that gave into the back-alley, which framed a distressed maiden wiggling her legs while suspended mid-air, her head stuck in the winged helmet.

“What are you doing with my helmet?” Yuuri shouted at her.

“I’m trying to take it off so I can get away from here without being noticed,” she shouted back, “but the helmet won’t let me down.”

Her face was half-hidden by her agitated hands and the blond locks that had tangled with the headdress in the struggle, preventing Yuuri from studying her intentions accurately and leaving him with the bare facts that she had intruded into his lodgings and stolen one of his most precious possessions.

“You are doing a very bad job at not being noticed.” He snarled. “Why did you take it in the first place?”

“I did not take it!” She answered.

“Did you not? It looks like you were attempting to fly away with it.”

“I came for the sandals, but I did not find them and the helmet raised my curiosity.”

“So you wanted to steal the sandals. How does this make your position any better?”

"I just wanted to look at them!"

The heated words came with a sudden jerk that freed the maiden from the helmet, leaving her hanging precariously from its sides, arms stretched and strained.

Understanding the gravity of the situation, Yuuri run for the window and jumped from its sill just in time to catch her as her grip faltered and she fell down to the bottom of the alley. His intervention, assisted by the powers of the flying sandals, greatly lessened the impact, but they still ended up hitting the ground in a much disorganized fashion, getting themselves bruised and dirty from landing in the mud.

Promptly Yuuri picked up the helmet and maiden, placing the first on his head and bringing the second back to his room.

As soon as he put her down, she created some distance between them and wound around to face the wall, her fingers clutching at the side of her robe.

“My dress is filthy, torn and I have lost half my pins.” She said in a low, yet almost angry voice.

“There’s plenty of both lying around. Suit yourself.” Yuuri answered dismissively, perplexed by the demanding tone she was raising after being caught in a compromising position.

“I wouldn’t take another woman’s clothes without her permission.” She snapped back without turning.

Stunned by the strength of her refusal and unable to claim the property as his own, Yuuri had trouble formulating a reply, moving his mouth inconclusively until his name was called from the central courtyard.

“Yuuri!” Minako was shouting. “What is the racket all about? Has anybody died?”

“It’s just the neighbour’s goose!” He yelled back from the doorstep, along with a few other reassurances which satisfied the muse and convinced her that her intervention was not required.

He soon realized that the words he had used to tranquillize his teacher had had the opposite effect on the intruder, who had left the wall and marched up to his neck with a hot breath.

“A goose?” She said indignantly.

“Would you have preferred me to cry for a thief in the house?” Yuuri said, turning his head with impatience and finding himself able to look at her properly for the first time since the start of the confrontation.

The motion of his eyes revealed to him some unexpected pieces of information. In her temper, the maiden had let a side of her robe drop from her shoulders and a glimpse was all it took for Yuuri to notice a body that was much like his mother’s from the waist up and much like his own from the waist down. Then, once his gaze settled on her face, he discovered the maiden to be one of his acquaintance: the reigning champion of the Grand Pythian Festival, Chryse of Cythera.

One moment he recognized her and the other she knew of his recognition and bowed to recover her robe, all her confidence disappearing as it had come.

“This is unusual of me.” She said in a much softer voice, holding the fabric up with her hand where the pin had gone missing.

“Chryse, I know as much.” Yuuri said, taking the two loose ends of the robe from her hand and tying them together with a knot, so that there was no need for them to be held further. “You have been nothing but kind to me in the past. I don’t understand your behaviour.”

“I lost control of myself when I lost control of my circumstances, which is something that I am not used to. I did not think that I would be discovered, because I rarely am, and I couldn’t stand the idea of you thinking ill of me. I had heard about your winged sandals and I just wanted to see them, try them on maybe, but I meant no thievery.”

“You could have just asked me, as we would have easily met in Delphi and you know I respect you highly.”

“I could have asked you, but sometimes we feel all-powerful and we allow ourselves to do irrational things, in the belief that we will get away with them, just like we did in the past, you know what I mean? I saw no need to inconvenience myself by asking for what I thought I could get without difficulty. I saw no need to expose my desires unnecessarily.”

“I understand the sentiment completely. I think I’ve done far worse than steal into somebody’s house for trivial reasons. I am also impressed by your skills, as you entered the room either by climbing or through elusion. Depending on the case, it shows that you have the strong limbs or the soft feet of a well-trained dancer.”

“You may guess how I entered the room, but I cannot let you in in all of my secret.” She smiled coquettishly.

“Uhm, do you need any help with your bruises?” Yuuri asked abruptly, remembering at last that, as a human, Chryse was a far more fragile creature than he was.

“Oh no!” She exclaimed. “The dress took most of the damage and the bruises are all superficial. They will heal in no time.”

“You will find another such dress sooner than you would have found another such body. I am glad you are alright; I couldn’t quite tell, for I am no expert in human anatomy.”

“And what did you think of my anatomy?” Chryse asked, her smirk challenging and almost flirty.

“Your anatomy?” Yuuri repeated, unsure of whether she was fishing for compliments or breaching the subject of her half-feminine, half-masculine body.

“You just saw me almost naked. What did you think about it? You must have thought something, everybody does when they see me without clothes.”

Yuuri struggled to come up with a reply respectful of the boundaries of their friendship and those of his private life. Her physique was odd, curious, beautiful and seducing, but what intrigued him the most was not how her shapes had affected him, nor the coincidence of them both being rivals-to-be and between sexes, but how she came to own such a body as he had sometimes desired.

“Were you born the way you are or were you transformed later in life?” He asked with some hesitation, hoping that the question, however solicited, would not offend the maiden.

“I prayed for my shell to match with my soul and divine will answered to my prayers.” She said steadily, all emotions back under her control. “I had many wishes and Aphrodite, whom we worship in Cythera, granted the most worthy. He turned me into who I am.”

Yuuri was filled by a wave of pride at discovering that Victor had been the source of another one’s happiness. Since his own youth and their first meeting, he had been like a star showing him the correct path towards his fulfilment as a god and as an artist and he still found himself marvelled whenever he contemplated how many were guided by the light radiated from the one he loved.

“Your people were wise in choosing a deity to worship.” He eventually said. “Victor Aphrodite has a big heart and a good deal of virtues.”

“I would hardly call him virtuous.” Chryse snorted.

“At least not to his face,” Yuuri exclaimed, “for, if he has a vice, that is vanity!”

They fuelled each other’s laughter, forgotten their brief row and the circumstances of their encounter, as they continued to joke at the expenses of the god of beauty.

“Should I bring another mirror to Aphrodite’s temple the next fourth of the month?” The maiden said. “How else would we appease his ego on the day that is sacred to him?”

“How would I know? I am too ugly to have a sacred day!”

“You are twice as pretty as he is, but we must not let him know that everybody thinks so!”

“That’s why I make myself ugly on purpose!”

Once the merriness had dispersed, Chryse locked her eyes with Yuuri’s and opened her mouth in a silent smile.

“You do not judge me.” She said, brightness stemming from all of her features.

“Why should I? I have nothing but admiration for you. So what if you are a thief or a bit weird? In a way, today I learned that we are far more similar than I initially believed.”

“Have you ever heard about soulmates? Some are so similar that they fall in love.”

Yuuri paled, taken aback by the sudden turn of the conversation, hastily formulating a response to cease that discussion as soon as it had started.

“I would not want to disappoint you.” He said in as light a tone as he could manage, with the aim to preserve the banter. “My heart is already taken.”

And then Chryse’s gaze dropped, her lips shut and her fists curled tightly, her whole frame expressing disappointment as if she had meant the off-hand comment in seriousness.

“Could you fetch me some clean water, so that I can make myself presentable?” She said at last, never once raising her eyes from the floor.

Yuuri complied with her request and went downstairs with his empty amphora. When he returned, Chryse was nowhere to be founds and the only sign of the incident were the few marks of dirt covering the bedroom’s surfaces.

 

A choreography for Yuuri’s short program was already in the works. Conceptually, it was based on the game of seduction, the dance in which lovers engaged before coming together in the wild embrace of passion, but the moves themselves were mainly influenced by Victor Aphrodite’s suave manners and smooth technique, of which he had carried out a thorough study in the time they had spent together on Cyllene.

While the story behind the program had been outlined and the traits of its protagonist decided, little progress had been done in regards to the stage costume, as none of the fabrics that they had bought in Delphi could satisfy Yuuri as the right attire for Peitho’s alluring character and bridge the gap between his vision and reality. Whether the colours were too bright or too dim, whether the texture was too rough or too thin, whether the consistency was too revealing or not revealing enough, there was not a roll in the whole purchased stack that could please him enough to make choice.

To complicate the problem, he had the idea in his mind that, if the program was inspired however secretly by Victor, every aspect pertaining to it should be worthy of its divinity, so that no flaw could taint its legacy and respectability among humans. Taking account of this point, the triplets proposed that, if he could not find a costume worthy of the god of love and beauty, he should just ask for the permission to borrow an old one of his.

The suggestion was well received and, as a result, the members of Minako Terpsichore’s household reunited in the courtyard to watch all of Victor’s available past performances in the pool’s waters, in the hope of finally finding the right outfit for the routine. At first it looked as if Yuuri would have a hard time picking a favourite, for, although they normally dressed very differently, the two gods shared the same taste in stage clothing; yet, midway through the run, a piece caught his attention more than the others.

“The costume draws elements from both the masculine and feminine spheres.” Minako said, trailing her palm descriptively over a still image of young Victor. “One half is meant to represent the simple robe of a nymph, while other half is meant to represent the coat of a satyr.”

It was indeed a peculiar aggregation. Dominating the right side was a short semi-transparent chiton, black on the outside with a red underside, while, on the left, a layer of the darkest fur covered the body from the chest down to the entire leg. A trail of gemstones crossed the torso diagonally, easing the transition between the two halves.

“This one!” Yuuri cried with conviction and the matter was settled.

Except that Yuuri had no intention of asking Victor to borrow said costume, both because he didn’t want to share with Victor his plan to compete in the Grand Pythian Festival as a human maiden and because he thought that he would die of embarrassment if the other as much as guessed the nature of his inspiration. Thus, he saw no other alternative than to steal some feet of its same fabrics from Aphrodite’s temple in Delphi, confident that, in his wealth, the god would neither notice nor miss them and that, in his generosity, he would not mind the homage of a newcomer dancer.

It wasn’t easy finding a maker capable of replicating the left leg’s wrapping in a land where even professionals had barely any experience with sewing compared to most foreign peoples, but Minako Terpsichore had quite a few connections in the polis to help out the completion of the dress. The process was a discreet and tiring one, as the necessity for secrecy did not allow the tight garment to be fitted directly on Yuuri’s body and so it had to be sent back for alterations multiple times. The evening in which the costume was finally deemed ready, Yuuri’s head was spinning due to the repeated trials and a taste of wine, enough for him to announce his retirement some hours earlier than usual.

“What for?” Minako yelped, well past her fifth cup. “It is time to celebrate! You should stay with us and fall asleep in the dining room, like we all will.”

“I need a stable surface to write comfortably.” Yuuri yawned, then narrowed his eyes towards the triplets. “And space to keep my affairs private.”

The reply did nothing to placate the drunken muse, who rested her chin on the back of her hand and smiled curiously.

“And what would you be writing?” She asked. “A heroic poem in which you are the invincible hero?”

“No.” Yuuri answered tersely.

“An adventure game in which the players fight against monsters?”

“No!” He negated harder.

 “If it’s not something weird, it must be something illegal. Is it a list of the things you have stolen this month?”

”Of course not! But the topic is a sensitive one.”

“And what would that be?” Minako pushed unbashfully.

“On love.” Yuuri said, his cheeks claimed by a redness that could not be justified with light inebriation. “It is research for my performance.”

“You’ll better research it scrupulously. You really need to compensate for your lack of experience.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are reading my fic, it would mean a lot to me if you let me know in the comments!


	8. Aphrodite's Day

On the fourth day of each month in the local calendars, the Hellenic people prayed to Victor Aphrodite, god of love and beauty, and celebrated the glory of his accomplishments. The merits attributed to him were the unparalleled charm with which he graced the world, the mastery behind his legendary dancing, the generosity of his gifts and, most importantly, the protection he provided to those who indulged in the pleasures of his domains.

Of the days sacred to him, the incoming fourth was the utmostly blessed, for on that date would be held the annual summer festival of Aphrodisia, a major event throughout Hellas, especially in those poleis that had entrusted their interests to the god’s patronship. The festivities included the parading and washing of Aphrodite’s figure, the offering of flowers and living animals, dances, banquets and, for the keen ones, secluded love-making.

It was a great occasion for the populace to ask a favour of the deity in exchange for a contribution and a greater one for the temples to refill their rooms after a year’s consumption. But, in Phichit Orpheus’s opinion, it was not a great occasion for Yuuri Hermes, as he had learned that his friend would not be able to participate to the merriments due to being stuck with some pressing work that would bring him away from Delphi around the whole duration of the festival.

“I can’t believe you are leaving just when things were starting to get lively.” Phichit told Yuuri. They had reconnected soon after the latter’s return to the city; as an apology for his inconsiderate departure, Yuuri had already shared with the other the secret of Peitho’s identity. “It cannot hurt to delay your delivery for a few hours”.

“It is a very urgent message, Phichit. Besides, I will be back right after the celebrations are over and, if we cannot enjoy the clatter, we will at least enjoy the quiet.”

“What if Victor shows up to receive his followers? You are going to miss him making one of his rare public appearances twice in row, just like at the winning ceremony.”

“It’s not like I haven’t seen much of Victor recently and it is well known that he always spends the Aphrodisia festival on Olympus, not to risks favouring one polis over another.”

“Then I guess I will have to have all the fun just by myself.” Phichit concluded, while scanning his surroundings for a group of acquaintances to join during his friend’s absence.

So it was that Yuuri Hermes flied north, carried by the small wings on his ankles and the large ones on his head, a bolt of determination engulfed in a cloud of nervousness. As much as he did want to share some of his secrets with Phichit, he had not been willing to tell him that his current duty was to convey to the aforementioned god a terrifying scroll tied with a red ribbon and sealed with red wax, which, from the impression on the seal and the colour of its bindings, had all the appearances of being a love letter from a secret admirer. Yuuri took great care of handling the item with attention, lest a graze in its thin skin betrayed how strongly the light parchment affected his senses.

The winged sandals allowed him to travel even faster than his legs and opened up the opportunity to follow a straight line from start to destination, rather than extricating oneself out of the paths of the forest, making his journeys easier than they had ever been. The peaks of Olympus were approaching in the distance, which meant he was but a few moments away from the mountain.

He landed by a narrow torrent, with the aim to stop for a drink and to check whether he looked as dishevelled as he felt. He was wearing his best garb, excluding those that belonged to Peitho: a short white chiton fixed on only one shoulder with a silver pin and held at the waist by a blue cord. The most magnificent of his possession remained hidden from view, as the blue-pearled ring he had stolen from Victor so many years earlier hanged safely from an inner belt chain.

Yet, if the clothing was prim, the face was not so. His hair had been tussled by the wind and his eyes looked as scared as he felt inside, but the hour had come for him to meet the god and deliver the message, so he combed his hair back with water to give it the semblance of taming and drew his breaths with intentional slowness to achieve a state of relaxation.

He arrived at Victor Aphrodite’s palace just in time to see him rushing off from his morning bath and tiptoeing towards him in a hurry and in all his naked glory, except for a colourful and inestimably costly towel clumsily tied around his waist with a loose fold and holding to its place thanks to wetness. A handful of startled doves flied from his path as he approached and dripped on the way a trail of water all over the marbles of the rich estate.

“Yuuri!” He greeted loudly. “You came to visit! I am so glad you did, I was just thinking through a short sequence that would be perfect for one of your programs.”

“You were thinking about my programs?”

“I would, wouldn’t I? What else could I do when we are too far to train together.”

For a moment is seemed as if Victor would run straight into a lowering Yuuri, but he halted and retreated dexterously enough to avoid a collision, letting his big dog instead scuttle around their guest’s legs, seeking attention and pets.

“Makkachin is very fond of you.” He said. “You should come here more often, so that she won’t miss you. Come have a sit! Let’s talk about this choreography while I dry myself up.”

The god gently took his wrist, led him to a klinē at the side of the pool and dropped on its edge, inviting his companion to do the same. The latter followed the example, letting his tights weight on the softest cushion he had ever had the luxury to lie on.

Right next to the klinē was a small table, onto which rested a comb, a mirror and the well-known pink-pearled ring. Yuuri thought that he must have gazed at the last object intensely, because he was completely caught off guard when his felt his foot being lifted by the delicate hands of Victor Aphrodite.

“Such a piece of handicraft.” Victor said, admiring the winged sandal in his palm, letting the back of his free fingers caress the fine leather and then stroke the feathers at the tail of the shoe, making a spot behind Yuuri’s ankle unexpectedly tingle. “I did not think they could get more beautiful and yet here they are, divine as their owner and appreciably enhanced by his own qualities.”

In an urgency not to show how the praise had affected him, Yuuri made an effort to say something about the sandals as well.

“They are indeed functional. Do you want to try them on?”

“Try them on? Oh, no! They wouldn’t even look half as good on my big feet; I am satisfied with my flying carriage. How have things been going? I heard that you went to thank the Oracle of Delphi.”

“As you had advised.”

“Maybe I should return to the oracle too and see if she has changed her prophecy since the last time we met.” Victor said, while rubbing his calves with the towel. “Many years ago she told me that love would be easy for me to find but hard to grasp and I’ve been wondering ever since if perhaps I am destined to exist uncomplete in my domain. I do not hold her responsible for her words, for she is but a messenger and speaks the truth as she knows it.”

“Nobody who looked at you would think that you lack anything in regards to love. You are the one and only being in the whole of Hellas in which the abstraction concentrates fully.”

“You might say so, because you look through the eyes of someone with a nice, loving family and forget that I never had one.”

“I never even had a father, growing up.”

“I never had parents and I never had a childhood.” Victor sighed. “But I’m sorry for forgetting about your father and, by being blind to your situation, doing exactly what I’ve accused you of.”

“No offence taken.” Yuuri said, worried about spoiling the friendly mood of their chat. He sat in silence, watching Victor as he fixed his hair and wondering whether the god worked on the task manually instead of resorting to his powers just because he enjoyed body-care activities.

“Say, Yuuri, do you have a sister?” Victor asked, light and casual.

“I have many.” The other answered, confused. Yacov Zeus’ escapades were far from a well-kept secret.

 “Right.” Victor laughed. “What I mean is if there’s one that you like in particular.”

“Like Mari?” Yuuri proposed.

“You think Mari Hebe is your sister?”

“Is she not? If not because she is Zeus’ daughter, why else would he have allowed her to be brought to and raised on Olympus?”

“If she is your sister, I was not told.”

“I feel like she is. There is a resemblance.”

“As in neither of you look a thing like Yacov.” Victor’s voice resonated with mirth.

“As in both of us look a lot like my mother.” Yuuri clarified. “My mother says that my father came to her wearing a false skin and, since meeting Mari and getting to know her, I have been asking myself ‘What if he went to her more than once?’”

“I would agree with you, but I am notoriously bad at recognizing faces. Say, Yuuri, are you engaged to someone?”

The easy-going tone of the question made the young god’s blood chill.

“I’d prefer not to comment.” He replied, upset that to the object of his affections his own romantic availability was but a matter of little consequence.

“I see.” Victor said, finally done with the drying and placing his ring on his fourth finger. “Let’s go through the dancing sequence I created for you then. It’s time to dance.”

“I’m actually here for a commission.” Yuuri said, quickly producing something fair and light from his chiton and putting it forth between them as a barrier. “I came to deliver this letter. It’s for you.”

Despite the dainty wrapping, the god eyed the scroll with confusion, then gave it an almost disappointed look.

“Oh, is this for the Aphrodisia festival? They usually deliver my gifts at the temples, which means that this one must be from someone relevant. The red ribbon makes it look like a love letter — someone wants my attention — but the seal is plain, with no emblem, just a rounded hollow in the wax. Who sends this?”

“I am not allowed to tell. Sorry.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to ask repeatedly!” Victor smiled. “I can be very persuasive.”

“I really have to go now.” Yuuri said, too tense to be in the other’s proximity a minute longer. “Someone is waiting for me in Delphi.”

“Someone?”

“Phichit Orpheus.”

 

The letters from Victor Aphrodite’s secret admirer were not to stop after the Aphrodisia festival. Exactly one month later, likewise on a consecrated fourth, Yuuri Hermes was once again headed towards the god’s Olympian palace to deliver a second red-bound message.

He found the beautiful recipient reclined on his klinē, lightly dressed and surrounded by a copious breakfast. Realizing he had remained unseen, he took advantage of the silence permitted by the lack of footsteps of his flying sandals to approach Victor from behind. With a stealthy movement, he stole a piece of cake from his grip just as he was about to bite on it and revelled in the look of shock in his sea-like eyes and the gentle curves of his open lips.

“Yuuri!” The god exclaimed. “I’ve been waiting so long for another one of your visits. I wish you knew were to find you, so I could visit you myself.”

“I have been travelling much.” Yuuri lied, having spent most of his time since their last encounter in Delphi, living as Peitho. “I wouldn’t be able to tell where I’ll be tomorrow; or this afternoon even.”

“I can tell you! You should stay here with me because we have so much to talk about. Sit by my feet! Have some teganitai! Try my figs!”

Before he could pose any opposition, Yuuri was already being fed a variety of delicacies directly from Victor’s hand; he gulped with pleasure more than once at the sweet taste of fruit and cake.

“You like them, don’t you?” Victor said with an air of self-satisfaction, as Yuuri licked a drop of honey left by a teganites’ topping from the corner of his mouth. “I materialized the whole array myself. I’ve gotten quite good at it.”

“They are exquisite. But why did you produce so much food when you had no one to share it with?”

“Maybe I was practicing or maybe I was hoping to be joined!”

“I see.” Yuuri said uncertainly. “If you are waiting for someone, I would not want to disturb you.”

“You wouldn’t!” Victor cried. “In fact, I had you on my mind particularly.”

“But what if I didn’t show up?” Yuuri asked, more relaxed. “Were you planning on eating this all by yourself?”

“Some of it I would have left to the doves, the rest I would have just dematerialized.”

“It must be such a comfort to be able to create food and dispose of the leftovers so easily.”

“It is and you should attempt it yourself. Have you made any progress with your powers?”

“Depends on the kind of progress. I think I can hear more clearly the people praying to my name and I can control some objects, like my sandals and my helmet, as if they were part of my own body, but I cannot alter reality.”

“You should still try. In you runs the blood of the most powerful god of our Pantheon, which means that your potential is extraordinary.”

“I do try sometimes, but I cannot figure out how to make it work.”

“I could teach you how to improve this kind of powers.” Victor offered with a wink.

“You could?” Yuuri asked, unsure about his companion’s degree of seriousness.

“I could. Close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“So you can gather your energy and focus your thoughts on the effect that you want to obtain. Then you think of something simple — how to originate a source of water for example. There, hold this cup and imagine a rivulet pouring into it.”

“How do I know that asking me to close my eyes is not a ploy to play a joke on me?”

“Yuuri! Your lack of trust in my good will hurts me!” Victor moaned in jest, dramatically falling back on the klinē and prompting Yuuri to give a sequence of facetious apologies. “Never mind, I’ll show you how to fill that cup later. Right now, I want to go through those moves I had choreographed for you and which I didn’t get the chance to demonstrate last time. I long to see you put them at use and I was thinking that you could incorporate them in your next program, so everybody else can see you use them as well at the Grand Pythian Festival-“

“Victor…”

“I expect you to pull out a winning act. With your excellent footwork and musicality there is no reason why you should not place first and become the Hellenic champion, I really think that you-“

“Victor, please stop.”

“Uh?” The god looked at him quizzically, confused by the interruption.

“I will not participate in the next Grand Pythian Festival.” Yuuri said firmly.

“Why not?”

“I don’t feel like to. This year’s competition was for me disastrous both on a personal and professional level and I do not wish to repeat the experience. Not now, not ever. I am retiring from competitive dancing.”

It was only half the truth, but disclosing to Victor the Peitho concoction was out of question.

Victor’s face went dark, as he bowed his head and let his fringe hide the expression on his features. Yuuri extended one hand to remove the hair from his eyes, revealing the tears pooling at their lower edges.

“What are you looking at?” Victor asked.

“I am just surprised to see you cry.”

“I am mad, alright?”

“You are mad? Just because I refused to use your choreography?”

“No, I am mad because you are wasting your talent.”

And since Yuuri believed neither his career nor his talent to be any of Victor Aphrodite’s business and he did not wish to be judged any further, he tossed the scroll he had come to deliver on the other’s lap, drank a sip of wine and flied from the palace within the span of seconds.

He descended from the top of the mountain and perched himself on a pine tree in the lower woods. There, he spent a full day brooding over the exchange and resenting the ill spirits with which he had left Victor. The sun set before he moved from the tree and he was still on his branch when the light at the eastern horizon cued the start of the morning.

It wasn’t the promise of a new day that prompted Yuuri to leave his spot, nor the necessity to initiate his training, but the yell of a scared maiden who had ventured at the feet of Olympus, even though humans were actively discouraged from hiking in the mountain.

The reason behind her fear were an aggressive pair of venomous snakes fighting by her skirt and putting her at risk of being bitten, were she to attempt to put some distance between herself and the conflict.

Michele Apollo was standing nearby, offering words of reassurance and aiming at the wild animals with a thick stick.

“Stand still.” He told the young woman. “They are taken enough with each other that they won’t hurt you unless you disturb them. If you follow my advice, by the time they’ll be aware of our presence, they will also have their slithering frames lethally pierced together.”

When Michele raised the stick further to charge the blow, Yuuri felt that there was something wrong in the way the scene was playing out and was prevailed to quietly stop his arm and take the weapon from his hand.

Everyone watched in silence as Yuuri flied close to the snakes and planted the staff in the ground between them. Not a breath was released as the two snakes suddenly ended their fight and started crawling around the stick, until their bodies stiffened and became as hard as the wood with which they had intertwined.

“How are you feeling?” He then asked the maiden, no longer in peril of being poisoned.

The only reply she gave was a look of contempt which Yuuri associated with a memory he couldn’t quite place, then she run from the two gods without uttering a word of gratitude.

“Well done, my dear brother.” Michele Apollo said. “It seems that you came up with a solution that was better than mine. Where I saw the inevitability of death and violence, you saw a possibility for peace.”

“They might be at peace,” Yuuri answered, “but they are still dead.”

“What you call dead is just another form that life can take, a transformation we might say. I can feel a powerful aura emanating from that staff and in that aura the snakes keep on leaving.”

“You think that this staff has supernatural powers?”

“That remains to be seen. You must excuse me now, but I have to get on my chariot and take over the carrying of the sun from the god Shamash.” Michele said pointing at the empty vehicle parked behind the bushes.

There was a lot of flexibility in Michele Apollo’s morning schedule, for the east was vastly covered by solar deities who were willing to share the duty. At most times they had organized to have only one sun going around the world, but Yuuri had heard that, one time in the past, there had been up to ten others travelling in the sky. For better or worse, the schedule was not so accommodating in the evening, as in the west, all the way past Atlas’ site of castigation, laid an unclaimed expanse of water over which Apollo would have to drive in order to complete his section of the cycle.

When Yuuri was appointed the messenger of the gods, he had asked why they needed his speed when Apollo’s chariot was certainly faster than his legs. He had been explained that, along with not being normally available during the day, the Pantheon had only one steed for the job and that it needed much rest after each ride. Additionally, occasional failure to carry the sun according to the agreed arrangement would result in discontent from the inhabitants of the Hellenic region and all the lands in its proximity, eventually creating an opening for other divinities to claim rights over the Great Sea.

While Yuuri thought about the practicalities of managing nature, Michele had already mounted on the chariot and was ready to take off.

“Wait!” He cried to his half-brother. “You are leaving the staff behind.”

“It is yours.” Michele said replied. “You can keep the wand as I have kept the lyre. Besides, you have improved it immensely. Be it a symbol of your noble character.”

 

Victor Aphrodite was relaxing, leaning on the border of his pool with his lids closed and taking a specially-prepared nutritious bath in ambrosia, when he felt a light tapping stirring the hair at the top of his head.

He opened his eyes to see Yuuri Hermes suspended in front of him, extending a third one of those red-ribboned scrolls towards him, close enough to his nose for Victor to identified it as the object with which he had been poked.

“I’ve got another letter for you.” Yuuri said, his stance deliberately dismissive, yet inadvertently defensive, having his legs crossed in an attempt to feign casualty, but his free arm shielding his stomach with the hand clutched at the crook of the opposite elbow.

“One each fourth of the month.” Victor commented blandly, taking the scroll and unfurling it on the spot. Then he started reading it. “‘Most luminous god of love and beauty, whose loveliness and prettiness outshine even the meaning of said title, dispose of this message if reading my words is to you an imposition. But if you receive them with pleasure, please do me the honour of being the sole recipient of my most sacred and secret feelings.’

“My admirer is so considerate and quite an accomplished writer. Oh, I can see I’m been rude, you are not interested in my love letters. I can read them when I am alone. So, how have you been, Yuuri?”

“Busy.” He answered. “Busy working and travelling.”

“Ah, too bad for you. You should get more chances to enjoy the luxuries of life.” Victor sighed theatrically, splashing his toes and tossing the scroll in a basket with a swift throw, away from the liquid nectar he was surrounded by. After a few awkward moments of silence, he gave his first proper look at Yuuri and his apparent disinterest was replaced with a bout of care and worry. “Look at your skin, all sunburnt and damaged by the wind and exertion.”

“It’s nothing really. Flying, running and dancing all take a toll on my skin, but the elements can only hurt me superficially. Being who I am, I am very resistant to harm.”

“I doubt they could leave their sign on you at all, if it wasn’t for the great empathy you feel towards humanity.” Victor said. “Still, you should massage yourself with some ambrosia. Sit on the klinē.”

Yuuri obeyed the command, trying not to gawk at his friend as he rose from the pool and wrapped a towel around his waist, subsequently turning around to fill a small bowl from his bath and recuperate a sponge.

“Anointing in ambrosia seems to have great regenerative properties, even for those already blessed with immortal life. The more we discover about it, the more I realize we must fight to retain its control. On a good day, we are still subjected to fatigue and minor forms of wear, on a bad day… we have been known to die. Give me your foot.”

As Victor untied his sandal, brushing his fingers with the skin underneath and started to tenderly clean his leg with the oiled sponge, Yuuri felt like a treasured doll in the hands of a lover and all he could do was to purse his lips tight and force his face to remain impassive.

“You must forgive me Yuuri for getting angry about you wanting to retire.” His companion said. “I shouldn’t have spoken over your wishes, however strongly I feel about the future of your career. But I want to tell you something: you have all the time in the world, maybe even an eternity, for making something out of your love for dancing. In due course, you will develop abilities that will help you ease some of your concerns about competing publicly. For example, you could come up with techniques to compete among humans without revealing your identity, if, as I suspect, the attention given to you as a god is what makes you feel uncomfortable. Or Take Yurio for example.”

“What about him?” Yuuri managed to ask, stunned by how well Victor had read him and occupied with hiding the urge to moan under his touches, going up and down his calf.

“Since he became lame, he was forced to give up dancing, but he can still be hopeful that one day our abilities will be able to heal his injury.”

“I never knew what happened to him. I never knew if it was that something I could ask. Did he like to dance?”

“Well, when he was a child, Yuri Hephaestus was very fond of dancing, but one day Lilia Hera found a golden figure of the Egyptian cat-goddess Bastet hidden in his bedroom, which he confessed to have personally moulded. Lilia was furious, outraged that her son would craft the idol of a foreign deity. A big scene ensued, after which she launched Yurio out of Olympus with her full strength, disowning him as a son. It was shortly after I had returned to the mountain from my eight-years-long absence and I arrived just in time to hear her say ‘Cats. All they do is killing birds.’ Then she trudged haughtily inside the Pantheon’s palace without seconds thoughts.  The fall, procured by one of our mightiest gods, marred Yurio’s hip irreparably and, to this day, he never fully recovered and was never able to dance again.”

“This is horrible. How did they end up on good terms again?”

“Lilia ultimately realized that Yurio had been the only one of her children to share her disposition and also that cats could be quite endearing creatures when they wanted, so she took him back at the condition that from then on he would only forge figures of Olympian deities. The bond between them was restored; not so much Yuri Hephaestus’ good health.”

“I wish I had known. I wouldn’t have been so upset about his occasional provocations, which are clearly a defensive mechanism, especially since I am a dancer.”

“I’m sure he actually likes you. What I’m trying to say, in regards to your specific case, is that the powers which prevent us from living among humans can also become the powers which, in time, allow us to regain the freedoms we have lost to the glory of godhood.”

Yuuri hummed a timid acknowledgement, then raised his eyes.

“Is your offer to help me develop my divine powers still standing?” He asked coyly.

“Of course! Give me your other leg now.”

Victor Aphrodite started lavishing on the second limb all the slow attentions that he given to the first. Some minutes later, Yuuri had collected his senses enough bring some humour into their banter.

“That is a lot of ambrosia you have wasted for one single bath.” He said.

“Just a little treat for myself, I’ve not been feeling very well lately. The doves must have brought me more than usual for this reason. Besides I’m not seeing you lamenting having it rubbed up you pretty foot.”

“I’m not having keramia and keramia of it.”

“Still you look far too content, knowing your frugal nature.”

Yuuri squirmed his exposed legs slightly and tried to think about how to divert the conversation so not to say what exactly was making him content.

“So, what is actually making you upset?” He said. “Shouldn’t you be pleased by all the love letters you receive.”

“There’s not only love in my life.” Victor sighed. “I also have worries.”

“Like you saw a picture of the goddess Ishtar and thought she was more beautiful than you are?”

“Is she?”

“My mouth is sealed. The last thing I want is for you to begin that Assyrian war you are so afraid of and all in the name of good looks.”

“Very funny.” Victor said, just as he finished cleaning the other’s feet and started admiring them. “There you are, your skin is soft and the hair has a lovely sheen. What are going to do now? Is there anyone else you have to be with?”

“Just you. Show me the moves you have choreographed for me. I will not use them at the next Grand Pythian Festival, but I still want to learn them”.

There came the dances and, after the dances, came a demonstration of Yuuri’s areal acrobatics, to which ensued Victor’s earnest praise, manifested in cheers and a shower of flowers to fall around the performer produced by a blow of his breath.

On the short trip back to Minako Terpsichore’s palace in the muses’ plateau, where he had been given leave to rest by his mentor, Yuuri felt ecstatic. He twirled and spiralled like happiness knew no end; he dipped to smell the grass and soared to taste the clouds. He was at peace with Victor, so, as a consequence, he was at peace with the whole world.

Equally successful was the delivery to the god’s residence of the third mysterious scroll since the Aphrodisia festival, a series of letters that, in their secrecy, had meant a lot to him, for, before their carrier, he was their caretaker and, before their caretaker, he was their writer and, before their writer, he was, first of all, the authorial mind behind the sweet words of love they contained.

It had been the only way he had found to express the feelings he had kept crushed in his heart for years, the only outlet for a force that strived to escape containment but was incapable of adapting to speech. It also had been a way that came with the side effect of giving him a non-suspicious opportunity to visit Victor Aphrodite with regularity.

He had gone out of his way to hide the provenience of the letters, from selecting a parchment of unclear origin to outline and become consistent in a fake calligraphy. Not a rushed plan, not a fleeting impulse.

Once inside Minako’s palace, he immediately started practicing the moves which he had just learned from Victor, very pleased with how they fitted his personality and certain that there was only truth in the claim that they had been intended for him alone.

Even if he could not use them in competition, he could incorporate some of their elements, however subtly, in Peitho’s yet to be choreographed free dance.

Yuuri was deciding that if he was to dance under a constructed persona, at least the content of his performance would be authentic. The routine would be a story about who he was and about what he loved.

His heart was now divided between two places: the peaks of his birthplace, Mount Cyllene, and the peaks of Olympus, where is dearest friend resided. Yet he did not want to make another program purely about romantic love, as his short program already covered that area; he wanted to address multiple forms of love, which included his love for his family, his love for life, his love for dancing and his love for flying.

As he thought about the clouds and the mountains, the air that supported his weight, the wind that gave him direction, he felt like if he was ascending to the sky even knowing that he stood on firm ground and one word struck him like a thunder. The word was ‘heights’.

So, with great inspiration, he inscribed ‘Yuuri on Heights’ on a piece of parchment. It would be the name of his routine and he knew just the music to go along with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>    
> [DRAWING ON TUMBLR](https://bug-catcher-in-viridian-forest.tumblr.com/post/172319058586/every-morning-the-god-of-beauty-wakes-up-to-the)
> 
> If you are reading my fic, it would mean a lot to me if you let me know in the comments!


	9. The Story of the Heifer

Once a stray child away from the cares of his mother, Yuuri Hermes had travelled northeast by the shores of the Dark Sea, past the confines of the Hellenic region. There lived a people rich in wealth and culture, but, although he found himself starved to exhaustion and in great need of aid, none of locals would open their houses at his request for help, on account of his dirty appearance and his foreign speech.

Too weak to walk further and too tired to remain awake, he collapsed at the side of a large building and remained unconscious long enough to lose track of the days.

When he roused from his sleep, his head was resting on a pillow instead of rough pebbles and the light came from the gentle flames of lamps instead of the scorching sun. It was night and he was lying on a bed located inside a mostly bare chamber with elaborated walls; it seemed likely that the distinct lack of furniture was intended to expose the mural designs. An old woman was snoring in a chair in the corner at his right, whom he believes to have been placed to guard possibly him or, more hypothetically, the exquisite pot sitting on a lone stool in the other side of the room. He wondered what it might contain, be it coins or jewels, both of which he could have taken and used to trade for food and shelter.

Yuuri was still feeling very much thirsty, hungry and worn, yet thanks to the miraculous powers of natural resourcefulness and excessive curiosity, he managed to slip off the bed and to make, with feet as light as feathers, his way up to the stool without waking the old woman. Marvelled by its beauty, he traced his fingers over the pot’s surface, then placed two at the opposite edges of the lid in order to lift it while minimizing the sound of grating against the underlying bowl. After his eyes discovered what the pot had kept hidden, his lips struggled to contain an exclamation of surprise, for, despite the hope of finding valuable metals, its content was revealed to be a warm, appetising soup. The twist turned beneficial for Yuuri, as, even if one golden coin could have bought him a hundred soups, none of those meals would have been served with immediateness.

He swallowed it down until the pot was empty and scraped its bottom until the clay was clean, however the thirst and the hunger persisted in taunting hid body, so he stepped out of the room and tiptoed through the corridors in search of something more to eat.

Following his intuition and his sense of smell, he finally arrived to a silent pantry, where bread and milk were stored aplenty. Yuuri devoured the goods as he had devoured the soup, but the intensity of the need within him increased with the force of an implacable monster, clouding his senses and his judgement and leaving him more incautious than he had ever been in his life. The noise of teeth crunching in his mouth engaged all his hearing, at the expense of his awareness of both the racket he was making and the state of his surroundings. Therefore he did not notice the figure walking towards him until two strong arms had grabbed him by the armpits and lifted him from the ground, an experience up till then for him wholly unprecedented.

When the arms rearranged around his body to hold his legs firmly and prevent any attempt to escape, he could see that he had been caught by the old woman who had been dozing in the first chamber and, for a moment, he thought they were going back to that room, yet, a couple of turns later, he realized they were heading in another direction.

They arrived in a majestic hall, at the centre of which stood one of the most graceful maidens Yuuri had ever beheld. Her mid-length, wavy hair bore the colour that the sky has in the hour between nightfall and complete darkness, while, draped around her, was a vivid purple dress of expensive fabric and refined taste. Yuuri found that, even if he were to be released, he could not have run away from her sight and he did not run, in fact, when his captor dropped him some feet right before the girl.

The old woman explained to her, in dire terms, how she had woken up to a vacant bed and the circumstances in which she had caught the little kid in the pantry.

“Thanks for telling me.” The maiden said. “Now you can leave us.”

The woman followed her order and they remained alone. Yuuri stared timidly, then sported a look of innocence, but is efforts went unreciprocated and so he tried to talk himself out of whatever trouble he was in by resorting to cuteness.

“Why is she gone?” He said with a big smile. “Who is going to make sure that I don’t run away now?”

“She’s gone because I told her so and I am her mistress.” The other replied tersely. “During your permanence in my house, I will also be your mistress and I myself will make sure that you don’t run away.”

“And who are you?” Yuuri asked, sincerely interested.

“I am Ketty Io, the high priestess of this temple. You have been taken from the streets at my request and I will give you a place to stay and a meal to eat until you are recovered. There is only one condition: you must tell me why you devastated our storage after we welcomed you so kindly, why you disrespected those who saved you from sunburn and starvation.”

“I was so hungry, beautiful Io. I might be small, but I need to eat a lot.”

“Do you need to eat more than others? Do you need to eat so much as to deplete the temple’s supplies? What would we ourselves have eaten if you had finished all of our provisions?”

“That was never my intention, but I do need to eat a lot, because I grow up very fast.”

Ketty Io studied at him squarely, as if to determine the validity of the excuse.

 “Where are you from?” She asked, after some thought. “You are foreign to the kingdom of Colchis”.

“I come from the east.” Yuuri replied.

“So why is it that you speak the tongue of the west?” She said sceptically. “Are you telling me a lie?”

“I was born and raised in the west, but my ancestors are from the east.”

“And what is your name?”

“My name is Yuuri.”

“That is a girl’s name in the east and not a name anywhere else. You are a boy, how can it be yours?”

“It just so happens.”

 “Well then, Yuuri. How old are you?”

There was a short delay between the question and its answer.

“Twelve.” He said at last.

“You don’t look more than ten.” Io said. “Is that another lie?”

“Would you have believed me if I told you I was almost four?”

“No, because you don’t look younger than eight.”

“I told you that I grow up very fast.”

The priestess sighed at the claim.

“There’s nothing else I wish to ask you if that’s how you are going to respond.” She said. “Return to bed and rest. This is a temple for women only and you are expected to leave as soon as possible.”

She continued to stand upright, waiting for him to leave, but Yuuri wanted to speak to her longer.

“Can I ask you a question, now?” He said.

“Sure.” She allowed. “You can ask me one question.”

“Thanks. How old are you?”

“I am seventeen.”

“Then you must have told me a lie, either now or before!” Yuuri exclaimed. “Seventeen is too young to be an old woman’s mistress.”

“The daughter of a ruler in never too young to command over a commoner.” She reprimanded him.

Despite her initial resistance, as the days passed, Io grew fond of the child and took great pleasure in nurturing him as she would a little brother.

More than anything, they bonded around their love for music. The noble priestess was an accomplished composer and performer and, among the instruments she played, there was a stringed one which fascinated Yuuri more than the others.

“It is called ‘harp.” Io told him. “The strings are perpendicular to the soundbox, but you can pick them just as you would with your lyre. They are more numerous, which gives the musician an advantage in terms variety, however, due to the increased size, one can’t carry most types around.”

“I shall like to hear you play it.” He said.

“I shall be glad to perform for you and, after I am done, I will teach you how to play the harp yourself.”

Io had written a considerable amount of pieces about a considerable amount of topics, such as the gods, nature, her kingdom and her friends.

One morning, she was watching Yuuri from afar while he amused himself with some branches and stones, when the latter noticed that she was repeating a novel and distinct sequence of notes on the harp he so loved. After a while, Yuuri approached her to enquire about the melody.

“What is it that you are playing?” He wondered, fascinated.

“A motif.” She answered. “Your motif to be precise. I’m writing a tune that reflects your very essence.”

“It is quite a simple tune.”

“A motif is meant to be simple, for it’s still young, just as you are. One day this motif will become a full piece, but I cannot decide what it will sound like at the present time, when I still lack knowledge of what kind of person you’ll grow into.”

A month passed and Yuuri gained strength and chubbiness, but the issue of his departure was never again raised by the priestesses of the temple.

It was him that eventually breached the subject.

“Beautiful Io,” He said with a hint of sadness. “I am feeling well enough to leave.”

“To leave!” She exclaimed. “My dear Yuuri, how can you possibly leave? Where will you go? Who will take care of you?”

“I am older than when you found me, I can take care of myself now. See how tall I have become?”

“But there is no reason for you to leave!”

“On the contrary, there is a very good reason. This is your home and, while I love you very much, it is truly not mine. I have to leave to find my own path in life and my way back to my mother and, in doing so, maybe one day I will do great things.”

“You will have time to do great things when you are no longer a child.”

“The son of a god is never too young to make great things.”

“The son of a god? Is this a new game of yours?”

“I wouldn’t lie to you.”

Io eyed him dubiously and reminded him that she still hadn’t finished writing the piece she had meant to embody his spirit. To reassure her, Yuuri promised to return to visit and ear the completed piece on that occasion. That just happen far later than a human would have expected.

 

Between the first Olympic game, in which Victor Aphrodite had challenged Yacov Zeus for his freedom in marriage, and the second iteration of the event, in which the game had been re-enacted by the people of Olympia, Yuuri Hermes had gone to visit his great-uncle Prometheus in the Caucasus region, where he had been chained to a rock by the Pantheon. The intent of the journey was to assess whether there was any chance that he could return the good titan his liberty, a quest for which he would have ventured far past the end of the world.

Prometheus was very pleased to make his nephew’s acquaintance, however Yuuri could not find a way to break the lockless, seamless chains that bound him, nor one to crack the attached rock. Despite all of his cleverness, he was only limitedly strong and, with the added difficulty of having to avoid the gaze of the eagle that the other gods had decided to employ to torture his uncle, and thus the gaze of Zeus himself, eventually Yuuri had to accept the unfeasibility of the task and forsake his relative until a method to free him would become evident.

As he was in the proximity of kingdom of Colchis, he remembered to stop by the capital to see his friend Io, just as he had said he would. It had taken a while for him to return to the temple, because he felt a little embarrassed by having never achieved the greatness about which he had boasted as a child and he always thought to be a good idea to wait an ever-renewing additional year before presenting to the priestess the person he had grown into. Yet, by then, experience had taught him that humans, unlike his mother, age rather rapidly, therefore he felt obligated not to waste a good occasion to meet her again.

The first time he asked admittance at the temple, he was refused on the account that only women were welcome inside the building. The second time, he introduced himself as a maiden and was granted entrance without issues, then brought before the high priestess as he had requested. So glad was Io to see him that, when she discovered his trick, she laughed from her heart and forwent any scolding she would have once reserved for such a prank. She granted him the opportunity to lodge with her sisters for as much as he wished, at the condition that he would keep feminine clothes during his stay, to which Yuuri agreeably consented.

With the passing of the years, both of them had changed enough to warrant the incredulous impression of the other. Io had matured into a prime example of elegance and kindness and, when Yuuri praised her so, she told him that he should not be surprised.

“It is natural,” she said, “for a girl of seventeen to grow into a woman in a decade, but I, on the other hand, have all the right to be surprised, for it could only be supernatural for a boy of four to grow into a man in the same amount of time. Of course, I’ve always known you were lying to me about your age.”

“And what do you think about my transition from man to maiden?” He teased sheepishly.

“I suits you perfectly and I should have seen it coming.”

Yuuri enjoyed his permanence at the temple greatly as there was a lot of dancing and music, within the rituals as well as in between them. One evening, Io drew Yuuri to her harp and started playing a simple tune that had never really left his mind.

“This will be a good occasion for me to continue my work on your motif.” She said. “I hope that, by the time of your departure, I will have a completed piece that you can take as a goodbye gift.”

“I’d be honoured to leave with a piece of yours.” He told her, touched by her offering.

“You are a creature of the wild, Yuuri, and I want to create a music that reflects that. I want to convey your ever-changing mood, at times gentle, at times reckless, like the winds that travel through the sky. You are a creature of life and I’ll write a piece strong enough to make you justice.”

Though he liked her company and was grateful for her friendship and attentions, as his stay prolonged, he came to realize that she had become absent in her duties as a host. He realized that she had been disregarding her duties as a high priestess as well and that she had settled in a haze of lightmindedness that, were she not known for her very virtuous character, would have suggested to Yuuri the possibility that she was in love.

“What an absurd idea!” She laughed, when he jokingly questioned her about it. “I am devoted to my goddess and my goddess alone.”

So Yuuri let her be, until the morning he happened upon her in a field, hidden in the tall grass with a man. He silently climbed on a tree in the nearby woods in the attempt to learn his identity, confused by how his friend could have fallen for one, given that the temple’s rules did not allow any to enter.

What he saw made him almost fall from the branch. He could hardly believe his eyes and for some seconds he actually refused to do so; when he was certain of the reliability of his sight, he thought that he had rather not known, since the man was none other than his father Yacov Zeus.

For days thereafter, he did not confront Io on the subject, unsure of whether it was respectful for him to impose his unsolicited advice on a much older person and one who had once contributed to raising him, but when it became clear how foolishly in love she was with the mighty god, he forced himself to say something.

“I apologize for intruding on you privacy,” he told her, after explaining what he had discovered, “but you must be made aware of who he is and of which dangers you go through by being with him.”

“How dare you spy on me?” She shouted outraged.

“I did not meant to, it was an accident. You have to understand that he’s using you and that he does not love you as much as do. He has a wife, a deity like him.”

“He told me so himself and he says that he loves me better.”

“And he has many lovers.”

“Mistakes of the past! I have his word that he loves me more than any he has loved before and that I alone will hold his heart forever.”

“You are but a human to him, beautiful but disposable. He has no care for your feelings and your future; he only cares about his lust.”

“Lust?” Io said, livid. “You are just envious because I managed to arouse the love of a god.”

She walked away with clenched fists, leaving Yuuri speechless and altogether worried.

His worry increased when he heard that, after their row, she had left the temple and not that returned by the arrival of sunset.

The night went by without notion of her whereabouts, so that, when dawn came, a search was organized. Yuuri separated from the group, to look for her alone, in the one place he thought she was most likely to be found: the same field in which he had seen her the previous day.

Except that, in the field where she use to lay with his father, he found not a couple of lovers, but a couple of spouses arguing in the proximity of a cow.

“You think you can fool me, lecherous coward.” Lilia Hera was yelling at her husband. “I know you were here with a girl. I can still smell her perfume on your clothes.”

“My beloved wife,” Yacov Zeus said meekly, “In my heart, there is room for only one girl and that girl is you.”

“Then you do not object to me taking this bountiful heifer as a present, as a compensation for the distress I suffered while travelling here in your pursuit.”

“This heifer? It’s just a wild beast, roaming in the grass, it belongs to no one. I see no reason why you should not have it.”

“Very well. Luckily I’ve brought with me my servant, Argos Panoptes; he will do a wonderful job of guarding her.”

“I’m sure he will.”

“While we will return ourselves to Mount Olympus.”

“With pleasure, my dearest.”

Hera snapped her fingers and a giant, several times their size and whose whole body was covered in eyes, emerged from the forest and tied the heifer to an oak tree. A muffled lowing escaped from the animal.

Hera smiled and Zeus smiled and, on a cheery, although doubtfully sincere note, they departed from the field on a cloud.

The human-like stare and the dark coat of the imprisoned heifer instantly revealed to Yuuri what had happened: his father must have transformed his friend into a cow in order to hide her presence from a very jealous Hera, but the goddess, knowledgeful of her husband’s dishonesties, had guessed his hoax and concocted a way to revenge herself on him and the maiden with whom she had been betrayed by owning and confining the latter.

Yuuri was determined to rescue Io and tried to do so in an assortment of increasingly complicated ways.

Unstrategically sneaking by Argos Panoptes was never an option, as he was much bigger than he was and had eyes enough to guard all the area around him, going full circle, from front to back and from back to front.

His first try was on the night immediately after his friend’s confining, when he neared the oak tree with the advantage of darkness to cut the rope which restrained her. The giant rebuffed him with little effort at each hourly go and on each subsequent night and so Yuuri learned that, after sundown, Argos neither slept nor had his vision altered for the worse.

He figured that, eventually, tiredness would overcome the giant and he would fall asleep like any other creature, giving him a break to release Io. In fact, after several days of guarding, Argos laid on the ground with his eyes closed and slow breathing, telling Yuuri that no better occasion would come for him to reach the oak tree unseen. What he did not know was that Argos’ eyes did all not rest at the same time and, even when most appeared to be closed, there were still at least a dozen wide open and ready to detect danger. Yuuri was sent away with a yank and that sealed the attempt as failed.

Then came the turn of setting up temptations and dressing up in disguises, none of which could persuade the giant to move from his post. Then it came the time when Yuuri brought a full herd of black cattle to the field to confuse him, but Argos held Ketty Io in his right arm to prevent her from mixing with the others.

Desperate for success, Yuuri’s sleeps grew feverish, and on one night he dreamed of a large sword with his name engraved on it and a blade which could penetrate the thickest of skins, yet in weight light enough to be easily manoeuvred by an averagely-sized being. Whispers of a thunderous voice commanded him to take the weapon and strike the final blow, making his dream feel more like a nightmare then anything.

The sword born of his delirium was at his side at his waking, real and solid, and he picked it with the reverence of one who had just been revealed his purpose and the means to achieve it: to free Io by killing the one who detained her.

The realization tormented him, as, although he had killed many animals in his life, he had never killed someone with sentience, reason and speech, yet, in the end, necessity won over conscience and he hid in the bushes with the sword in his grip, ready to charge for the giant’s life.

Argos Panoptes’ fate seemed decided for a few instants — that much had taken Yuuri to run half the distance and that much would have taken him to run the other half, had he not decelerated midway and started skipping jollily towards his target, letting the sword fall from a raised, menacing position to a low, swinging one.

“Tricked you, didn’t I?” Yuuri said to the giant with a nervous smile. “Thought I was going to kill you?”

“It certainly seemed so.” Argos said.

“Well, I just came to talk. I wanted to show you this sword.”

“Why?”

“Because there is an interesting story behind it.”

“Such as?”

“It was given to me by a defecting soldier.” Yuuri said, taking care to hide his own name engraved on the metal. “He told me ‘take it, for I will not be able to use it. I left the army to be with my girl, but I cannot carry anything that likens me to a warrior or I might be discovered and punished for my desertion.’”

“And you took it?”

“I did. See you later!”

“Wait!” Argos roared. “Aren’t you going to stay?”

“What for, I am a very busy person.” The young traveller lied.

“To try and free this cow. Or tell me another story, maybe. I am very lonely.”

“Another story, you say?” Yuuri muttered thoughtful. “Well them, but, if I give you a story, you must give me something in return.”

“I don’t have much to offer.”

“Yet there is something of which you have lots. I would gladly trade one of my stories for one of your eyes. I would even accompany it on my lyre.”

The giant pondered about the proposal for a while, then widened one of his sockets and extracted the eyeball out of it.

“There.” He grumbled, extending it to his companion. “Now sing to me.”

“Oh, thanks!” The other exclaimed. “I’ll tell you what happened in a Satyr’s house in my homeland…”

And so they went on for a full day, an eye for a story, as Argos Panoptes had been kept by his mistress secluded from company and he had developed a great solitude which couldn’t be soothed until all of his eyes were in Yuuri Hermes’ satchel.

During the last song, he was completely blind and Io’s rope was finally cut, letting the heifer escape from field. The giant, realizing he had been tricked, sighed heavily and sadly.

“I thought you and I had become friends,” he said, “but you just played me. I bargain for less than I traded for, since you not only took my sight, but also my reliability as a guard.”

“Don’t take it so badly.” Yuuri responded. “Now that you are no longer able to watch, you are of much less use to Hera as a sentinel, which leaves you free as well and able to make friends who love you in earnest and also, since you are no longer distinguished by your many eyes, even if she were to look for you, she could never find you.”

Lilia Hera did never find out Argos’ new whereabouts, but she did find that her servant had disappeared and that her cow had been liberated. Since she could locate the latter but not the former, she avenged her hurt pride by sending a gadfly to sting Io, who was still living as a heifer, in agonizing perpetuity.

To flee from the gadfly, Io started running continuously and uncontrollably, wandering away from her kingdom. She circled the Dark Sea, going north, west and south, until she arrived at the strait of Lygos and swam through it, proceeding east, in the hope of returning to her temple in Colchis.

Yuuri trailed her all the way through, with the intention of directing her and catching the insect that plagued her, however she was too wild to seek his guidance and the fly was too small for Yuuri to see properly with his less than perfect vision, so that, ultimately, he was not of much use if not that of supervising her good health.

Providence brought them at the feet of the same rock to which Yuuri’s great-uncle, Prometheus, had been chained, at the bottom of which Io found the wits to rest despite the unrelenting punctures of the gadfly.

“It brings me joy to see you again, my nephew, and I want to give some of that joy back to you and your troubled companion.” The titan said. “Neither of you can save me now from my punishment, but I see it in our future that, if you travel south and reach the land of Egypt, your friend will be restored to human form by Yacov Zeus and that she will give birth to a son of his, from whose lineage will descend a hero strong enough to release me.”

The good auspice helped Io to calm down and bear the inflicted stings enough for them to follow Prometheus’ advice and reach Egypt.

There, they were met by Zeus, who lifted the curse from the maiden, giving her back her looks and, as a consequence, also making her unappealing to the gadfly.

“Hide in this country, my darling.” The father of gods said, without a glance to spare for Yuuri. “Here it’s too far from Hellas for you to be vulnerable to Lilia Hera’s fury. I understand it is far from your home as well, but at least you will be safe. Now the time has come for me to say goodbye; stay well and live a long life for your sake as well as mine.”

It took a while for Io to re-establish herself in her new land and a longer while for her to overcome her disenchantment with men and fall in love again, but eventually she regain spirit and health and, when she did, she had a gift to give to Yuuri.

“Take this scroll.” She said, deep friendship exuding from her smile. “It’s your music, finished. Seeing the person you have become enabled me to bring this piece to completion. I know that life is ever-changing and that you will evolve beyond what I’ve hitherto portrayed; what I hope, though, is that I have managed to capture your emotional strength, which will no doubt remain a constant of your personality.”

“Thank you, beautiful Io. I am very grateful for being the subject of your art and I can’t wait until I hear you play the piece on your harp.” Yuuri said with deference. “By the way, how is it called?”

“You choose its name.” Was her gentle answer and so ‘Yuuri on Heights’ came to be.


	10. Two Yuris

When Yuuri returned to Mount Olympus on the following fourth of the month in order to deliver his fourth letter to Victor Aphrodite, he found him in the dining room in the company of Yuri Hephaestus.

The god of love and beauty was lying on a klinē with his dog resting on his lap and a distressed look on his face, while his own half-brother was sitting in front of a table laden with food, eating its contents with a lack of elegance in bearing and dress rather unfit for the glamourous halls of the palace. Their heads turned to the entrance when Yuuri announced his presence by knocking on a pillar with his snake-adorned staff, which he had taken to carry as a tool of protection.

“Come to me, Yuuri!” Victor exclaimed, suddenly joyful. “I long to greet you, but I wish not to wake Makkachin. All day I’ve been waiting for you to deliver my love letter, it is practically evening! What made you so late? I was starting to fear that my secret admirer had forgotten to write me or did not fancy me any longer, which would have been unfortunate, since I’ve been getting used to be regularly visited. Life at the top of a mountain can be intolerably lonely when there’s nothing and no one to spend the hours with.”

“The assignment just reached me.” Yuuri answered to the tirade, as he landed by the dog to stroke her fur. In reality, he had penned the first version of the letter in an inebriated state and, when he realized in the morning that it was far too revealing, not only of his feelings, but also of his identity, he had to rewrite it post-haste. “I was worried myself that your lover might be neglecting you.”

“This whiner here,” Yuri Hephaestus chimed in, “sent me a dove claiming to have been abandoned and requesting that I bring him a new necklace as soon as I could have it ready, to quell the disappointment. Next time try to be more punctual with your deliveries.”

“I guess that, with so much unused space at one’s disposal, one would begin to experience a sensation of emptiness.” Yuuri pondered. “There’s only so much entertainment you can derive from luxury.”

“I feel like you don’t approve of my jewellery.” Victor said, placing his hands on his chest right under the worn pendant. Yuuri’s eyes wandered to the muscles below them, then to the pink-pearled ring on the other’s finger.

“It suits you divinely. What I don’t approve of is to hear you have been lonesome. If life on Olympus does not make you happy, maybe you should try living somewhere else, maybe you could try travelling.”

“I’d love to travel more, but there is a strategical advantage in us deities not dispersing too much and too often. In these dire times, there is strength in our unity as a Pantheon.”

“Then I believe there is also an advantage in being the Pantheon’s messenger, after all. I might not be as powerful as the others, but I get a lot more freedom. Shall I give you your letter?”

“Put it on the table and tell me about your wand, most importantly. Michele told me that you acquired it while saving a maiden from two serpents.”

“Michele’s retelling was dramatic if anything.” Yuri Hephaestus said. “I doubt the events were nearly as heroic as he described them.”

“As long as you weren’t present,” Victor smiled, “the events are not for you to contest, Yurio.”

“He is right, though.” Yuuri said. “There wasn’t even the hint of a struggle. The staff is very remarkable, still.”

“Let me see it.”

Yuuri lent the curious instrument to Victor, who studied it carefully.

“What are these bones protruding from the top?” The latter asked as he felt the wood with his fingers. “They look like fledglings’ wings.”

“Indeed!” Yuuri cried. “They grow more and more feathery with every night I leave the staff lying close to my sandals. I say to myself that I carry it around for its usefulness, but I am equally afraid that, if I leave it alone, it will eventually fly away.”

“You claim that you cannot alter reality, but I doubt this wand would have come to be without your influence; you are its holder and its maker. I feel great power in it, a power of good and peace. Born from the spirit of diplomacy, may it grant immunity to its bearer in times of conflict and serve the purpose of differentiating a messenger from a soldier. How do you call it?”

“I haven’t given it a name yet.”

“Then let it be called the herald’s staff, as all heralds should carry one.”

“Kerukeion sounds good.”

“The name is not too bad and the wand is fancy enough for its primitive design.” Said Yuri Hephaestus. “Overall, an improvement of your apparel.”

With the clear intention of shutting up his ill-mannered guest, Victor materialized a sardine directly inside his mouth.

“Yurio here is a great artisan,” he said to his other companion, “but he has no natural predisposition to conjuring, so I’ve been trying to teach him some useful tricks. It seems like you yourself might have a hidden talent at that, so perhaps you would like to join our lessons.”

“I would like it very much.” Yuuri answered.

“Then let us give you a demonstration. Yurio, hold that empty cup and try to fill it with water. Concentrate on the feeling of flowing, just like I told you.”

For as much as Yuri Hephaestus appeared to concentrate, nothing happened, making the god of smiths scoff at the botched attempt.

“You aren’t much of a mentor if all you can tell me is to concentrate.” He said in a provoking tone. “I bet you don’t even know how one learns to do this, since you were born already spitting water out of your gills and throat.”

“Some are born spitting heated attacks!” Victor rebutted.

“Some are!”

“Maybe I should send you to meditate in one of my temples. That should help you understand my element.”

“Eh!” Yuri shrieked.

Victor Aphrodite laughed in true gaiety at the other’s outrage, making Yuuri Hermes wonder at the easiness with which the two bickered and at a level of familiarity that could only be ascribed to a bond of friendship.

Yuuri could also not help but notice how much his half-brother had grown over the years. While still maintaining a superficial grumpiness, he had turned out more open to form connections with others, compared to when they had initially met, and was transpiring to be, deep down, a well-meaning and caring person. He thought that, perhaps, the love of his siblings had alleviated the abuse he had suffered from his parents.

“Let’s try this, then.” Victor said. “I will fill the cup with water and you will move it.”

Yuri Hephaestus spent a good minute staring at the container and endeavouring to move the water within it, ultimately settling for knocking it off the table with the back of his hand and wetting the floor.

“There you go.” He said. “This is as much as I can move it.”

“Whoa, Yurio, such aggressiveness does not become you.” Victor teased. “Maybe we should let Yuuri have a go now, shouldn’t we?”

“The pig is not going to learn this faster than me.”

“We shall see that.”

Victor motioned Yuuri to sit on his klinē and offered him a second half-filled cup.

“Could you move the water for me?” The former asked the latter. “Think of the river and of how freely the fish swim in the current. It’s like catching a carp, but you catch a flow and command its movement.”

Yuuri tried in earnest to follow the instructions, but his thoughts strayed to the summer afternoon of their first meeting, to his meal’s surprising transformation in a beautiful god and to said god’s spectacular dancing. Some time must have passed, because Yuri Hephaestus started exhaling with impatience.

“I told you he couldn’t do it.” He said to Victor.

“You can’t do it either.” The other replied.

“At least I didn’t sit there for ages making everybody wonder whether my soul has gone missing.”

“At least he didn’t spill anything on my floor.”

“I’m going to hit his cup too if he keeps not showing any sign of life.”

At the remark, Yuuri Hermes shifted uncomfortably on the klinē, cuing a short hum from his companions and prompting even the dog to leave Victor’s lap in order to check up on him.

“I’m sorry I can’t do it.” He said, eyes low and embarrassed.

“It’s alright.” Victor said light-heartedly. “I didn’t expect you to be successful on your first attempt. We’ll try again some other time.”

“If you still wish to assist me.”

“Of course I do. Will you join us for dinner as well?”

“I’d love to.”

“Then let me prepare you something to eat.”

Yuuri was utterly taken aback when Victor, instead of letting him stand to gather his food, hugged his torso from behind and placed before his lips a piece of pork. His heart-rate quickened, his temperature rose, the insides of his mouth salivated and the water in his cup enlarged and froze.

“Wow!” Victor exclaimed, while Yuri Hephaestus gawked in disbelief. “You turned your drink into ice! That’s progress!”

“Was it me?” Yuuri asked in a whisper.

“It wasn’t me and I doubt it was Yurio. He’s going to have to train a lot if he wants to close the gap.”

 

Yuuri Hermes had quite a hard time delivering the fifth letter, as he found Aphrodite’s vast palace completely empty.

For a while, he walked through the many rooms of the marbled building, only to be met by the restless noise of the wind currents. He concluded that, although it was not usually the case, Victor might have decided to spend the fourth of the month at another location and began to map some probable alternatives which he could visit before nightfall.

On his way out, he was passing by the pool to steal a teganites from the tables, when he perceived a movement behind him and promptly flied at some feet’s distance to better defend himself in case of a dangerous encounter. He turned not to the sight of a monster or an enemy, but to a wet and naked Victor, awkwardly holding his arms high and frontal as if trying to grasp the air before him.

“Victor!” Yuuri cried. “What in your name are you doing?”

“I was trying to catch you by surprise,” the god replied, “but you are too fast for me.”

“I should hope so, because otherwise they would surely take me out of the Pantheon. Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Can it be that you’ve mastered invisibility?”

“Unfortunately not, I was just being still and quiet in the pool’s waters. Maybe your eyesight has worsened.”

“Maybe.”

“Come take a bath with me then, pure water is the cure of every ailment.” Victor said, offering his hand and jostling the other close upon its taking.

Chest to chest, Yuuri could feel the god’s breath on his cheek as he unravelled the cord of his chiton and unfastened the pin on his left shoulder, letting the cloth fall to his ankles.

The move revealed not only revealed his body, but also the thin chain circling his waist from which his blue-pearled ring had been hanging. The jewel caressed his soft hip every time he shifted beneath the other’s stare, a tingling touch of which the warmth increased tenfold when Victor’s free hand cupped the ring and the skin underneath.

“You are still wearing it.” He said, in an oddly vacant way of expressing.

“I do,” Yuuri answered, a blush profusing through is full length, “but it’s so garish that I usually keep it hidden.”

“I often keep mine on my finger, for everyone to see.”

“That’s in line with your character.”

Victor smiled and drew Yuuri closer to the edge of the pool.

“Come with me in the water.” He asked again and very easily obtained.

The bath was only slightly warm; too chill for most in the approaching winter, but Yuuri had always loved the cold and was attracted to a frosted lake as well as to a hot spring.

“I can make the temperature rise, if you like.” His companion said.

“I like it now, it feels very nice. It reminds me of freshwater in summer.” He answered.

“I had to heat it quite a bit to reach the effect. You know who else turned out to be good at heating water?”

“My sister Mari?” Yuuri said, after mentally going through a short list of all his acquaintances who could both have the ability and any utility in the task.

“Your brother Yurio!” Victor exclaimed. “I was, as you know, trying to teach him how to make liquids move, but the water in the cup started evaporating instead. Luckily, the effect was slow or I would have accused him of making it disappear, which is still a skill, but the opposite of the one we were initially aiming for!”

“I see. So he did close the gap between us and maybe advanced a little more?”

“If you are afraid of falling behind I can mentor you on a daily basis.”

“Really?” Yuuri said with disbelief.

“Of course.” Victor winked. “I’m going to make a powerful god out of you, little piglet, and, in the meantime, you can live with me at the palace, if you need a place to stay.”

“I’m actually already lodging on the mountain at Minako Terpsichore’s place in the plateau. I’m helping her taking care of three young students, who are the daughters of my dear friend Yuuko.”

“I had heard you had kept in contact with your old mentor. Who are these girls? They must be very good dancers for them to have been chosen by a muse and be brought to Olympus.”

“They are mortal triplet sisters of fourteen, who are becoming rather popular in Delphi, where they plan to take part in competitions as a group. Their name is ‘The Charites’.”

“I have heard of them, although I have never seen them perform. I wasn’t aware you were involved in their training.”

“I really am not. I’m just helping.”

“Which makes you involved. I’d like to meet these dancers, if you can bring them along tomorrow.”

“I will ask.” Yuuri muttered, hiding a smile below the waterline.

The conversation came to a lull, while the two gods relaxed in the bath. The eerie peace of the snowy peaks blessed their inactivity and allowed their minds to drift to a land devoid of evils, where all that mattered was the kiss of the sun and the cuddle of wavelets.

Eventually, Yuuri experienced the gush coming from a marked change in Victor’s position and understood that his companion was again in a mood to talk.

“I see that the wings on the Kerukeion are now fully grown. Does it help you controlling your powers?”

“I think so.” Yuuri said, swimming at the edge of the pool to retrieve the staff. “Watch me.”

Yuuri Hermes immerged the Kerukeion in the water and closed his eyes in concentration, then everything went silent. He dared not look whether Victor was complying with his request to watch him, lest a distraction caused the failure of his enchantment.

He was wondering how well he was doing and if his one spectator was pleased with the result, when he felt the wand gently removed from his grip and Victor’s hand on his shoulder.

“Wow, Yuuri, you are making the water very cold, but please don’t freeze it while we are inside it.” He said almost breathless.

“Sorry.” The other replied timidly.

“It’s alright, I’ll make it warm again. I’m glad your powers are getting stronger.”

Victor put the Kerukeion away and gave him a twinkling smile.

“Do you want to know where I was hiding when you came looking for me?” He asked.

“So you weren’t just being still!” Yuuri exclaimed.

“Not really. Watch me.”

With a sparkle, Victor Aphrodite vanished in thin air, where a flashy fish suddenly appeared and splashed immediately after underwater. A big golden carp was dancing in the pool and thus Yuuri apprehended how he had been fooled.

“Great disguise,” he laughed, as the fish circled around him and even tried to make his way between his legs, “but, since you are such a flamboyant creature, probably a lot is still too be blamed on my poor sight. Next time-”

Yuuri never had a chance to complete the sentence, as, a moment later, he found himself surrounded by water, with his vision vastly altered and his limbs missing. A floating mirror manifested for a few seconds above the spot where Victor was swimming, so that he could see that he had morphed into a silvery carp.

It was one of the scariest experiences of his life and he gulped for help until he was restored to his original form.

“I’m so sorry, Yuuri. Are you feeling well?” Victor asked, cupping his face. “I didn’t mean to frighten you, I just wanted to play.”

“Well, next time,” Yuuri blurted and stopped, realizing that he had started a sentence with the same words that opened the one which had been interrupted before the incident.

“Yes?” His friend encouraged.

“Just tell me beforehand, next time.”

“Of course. I’m really sorry, you know.”

Dispersed the tension, Yuuri began to laugh all at once.

“How could you think being transformed into a carp would not frighten me to death?” He cried.

“I don’t know!” Victor bemoaned. “I guess I am just so used to being a carp that the thought didn’t occur to me at all. The surface is often far more scary than the water.”

“That sounds like what a fish would say. Wait, how do I know, how does anyone know that you are not actually a carp that habitually takes the form of a person.”

It was his companion’s turn to laugh without restraint.

“You cannot know. Maybe I’m half and half!” He finally said, turning into a fish again.

 

The morrow came and so the day of Aglaia, Thalia and Euphrosyne's visit to Aphrodite's palace. For the occasion, Victor had brought his carriage to the muses’ Plateau in order to retrieve his guests and ease their trip across the mountain, an undertaking that would have otherwise been long and impractical for three humans on foot, even more so in a cold month.

Between the girls and the god a strong camaraderie formed very naturally and very quickly, in part due to a spirit of extroversion on both sides and in part due to like-mindedness and a fair amount of shared interests, the first of which was dancing. The ride was filled with amusement and chatter, yet Yuuri Hermes, who had been flying by his own next to the vehicle, felt somewhat excluded from the resulting hilarity, both on the account of physical distance and difference of character.

Although the party had originally planned to spend the time feasting and performing, soon after the carriage landed, Victor and the triplets skipped towards the private quarters of the Palace, where the richest fabrics were stored, the most precious jewels were displayed and the most titillating perfumes could be tried on. Yuuri was careful not to express his fascination for feminine fashion, being the subject a risky link that could connect him to Peitho, whose identity he still wished to keep secret from the Pantheon. Likewise, the girls were kind enough to refrain their tongues from mentioning his womanly likes and disguises and thus reveal the confidential piece of information to which they had been privy.

Yuuri decided to better employ the call by training his powers at the pool, in the hope of showing Victor all the possible improvement at the other’s return from the inner rooms.

It was the approaching rattle of lively steps that notified him of a comeback and made him quiver with anticipation, however, much to his disappointment, it had just been the triplets, running through the corridors in a demonstration of youthfulness which reminded Yuuri of their mother two decades earlier. Aglaia was the first to reach him, mirthy-eyed and carrying a very big diamond in her hand.

“Quick Yuuri,” she said, “put this in your cup and tell Victor that you have turned water into crystal.”

“I doubt he would believe it.” He replied. “He would notice that the shape and colour of my crystal are identical to those of one of his stones.”

“I doubt he could notice, he has so many.”

“There are robes in his chests which cannot have been waved by human fingers.” Euphrosyne said.

“And he tells us there are some that have been woven by Mila Athena herself!” Thalia exclaimed.

“Sounds about what he would own.” Yuuri said, trying not to get too sidetracked by the matter of clothing. “Anyway, I can freeze the water in a cup quite well now and, if I show Victor that I can freeze a pool consistently, maybe he will teach me how to do something else, like creating food, for example. I can’t wait till I can materialize my own pork.”

He then realized that he had been left to ramble alone, since the three girls were leaning on the columns at the outer edge of the palace, watching the horizon and muttering between themselves.

“Isn’t that…?” one whispered.

“I think he is.” Supplied another.

“Think about meeting two gods in one single day.”

“That makes three, actually. Yuuri is a god too.”

“Should we tell Victor that he’s coming?”

“Who’s coming?” Yuuri asked, fully curious.

As he received no answer, he walked for himself by the entrance and from there saw his half-brother, Yuri Hephaestus, coming to the palace on a mule.

“Why is it that he can’t afford a better steed?” Thalia enquired. “He is the son of Yacov Zeus and Lilia Hera, after all.”

“A mule can be a very good steed.” Yuuri remarked. “They are steady, strong and apt to be ridden on inclined terrain.”

“Good for the animal, but is it true that the owner is lame?”

“It is, but I would not discuss it in front of him.”

“Shall we not even dance ourselves?” Euphrosyne asked, worried. “I do not want to offend a deity.”

“I don’t know.” Yuuri said. “It’s hard to say in such cases.”

A scowl formed around Yuri Hephaestus’ brow when he became close enough to spot the group, an annoyance which he made a point of manifesting further as he arrived at a comfortable speaking range.

“What are you doing here?” He shouted. “Victor has promised to mentor me today. That air-head must have forgotten.”

“Possibly.” Yuuri said. “He mentioned no other engagement.”

“He’s going to hear some words from me if he made me ride here for nothing. Where is he? Victor!”

Yuri tied the mule to a column and strode as he could towards the private quarters, followed at a controlled pace by the other guests.

They caught Victor looking at a large mirror in his bedroom, trying to choose which diadem fit best with his chiton, thoroughly peaceful and unaware of the procession that had just marched up his way, which made the god of smiths positively enraged.

“Victor!” He roared again.

“Oh, hi Yurio.” Victor turned, all smiles. “Did you need something?”

“We had scheduled my training, you and I.”

“Oh right, I kind of forgot. We should go in the banquet room so you can show me if you are still able to boil water. We should concentrate on that talent and maybe you will soon also learn to heat other things; roast a fish perhaps or burn incense.”

“I’ll roast you if I get the idea that you are mocking me.”

All plans for dancing were set aside, as Victor gathered everyone by the pool and asked the two Yuris to each exhibit their powers and their progress.

Yuuri Hermes went first and was quite satisfied with managing to freeze a thick layer of its surface with the help of his staff, concluding his feat by stepping on the ice and sliding gracefully over it.

He was nonetheless impressed by Yuri’s subsequent alteration to his work. The heat he produced by exerting his stretched hands cracked the ice and created turmoil in the water till the area was filled with steam, impairing everyone’s ability to breath and see properly.

“See, shepherd?” His half-brother said. “Keep playing with your stick and feet; I’ll show you what a real god can do.”

As the steam dissolved, the air charged with the rivalry between the two students. Yuuri Hermes felt underestimated by the comment and craved for another chance to prove his worth, especially in front of Victor, while Yuri Hephaestus was more than eager to finally compensate his deficiencies in looks and sports and regain full parity with the other deities.

“There’s no need to get stressed over whose trick was more difficult or more useful.” The god of love and beauty said. “Both of your powers are childlike and undeveloped. You have a long way ahead of yourselves.”

“May we suggest.” Aglaia said, after a consultation with her sisters, “that a contest should be held between the two, ‘Yuuri against Yuri’, a spectacle to be held in your palace a month from now, on the fourth, for the benefit of the Olympians. The one whose powers will be deemed better by divine vote will be granted one wish from Victor Aphrodite.”

“I love this idea!” Victor exclaimed. “On the fourth it is! Train hard and show me your best abilities. Of course you girls will be present at the event; Yacov won’t be pleased to have mortals walking around, but we are going to tell him that you are my handmaidens, so it’s all settled.”

“Except the competitors’ prizes.” Yuri Hephaestus said. “If I win, I want you to drop this pig of a herald and focus on making me one of the most powerful gods of the Pantheon.”

“Alright.” Victor laughed at the audacity of the request. “And you, Yuuri, what would you want from me? Do you want to become a most powerful god as well?”

“I want…” Yuuri murmured. “I want you to teach me how to create cooked pork so that we can eat it together.”

Victor’s face glowed, like a hidden pond suddenly hit by sunrays.

“Great wish!” He said. “That’s exactly the sort of things that I like!”

 

For a month, the two Yuris let themselves be guided by their mentor, each receiving an equal share of his attention. Together they trained on Olympus, making it their practice to take on a routine of physical exercise and meditation, for it was Victor Aphrodite’s opinion that excellency in the control of one’s powers derived from the soundness of both the body and the mind.

At lower altitudes, the mountain offered many delightful spots in which to conduct their daily activities, from picturesque clearings, adorned with moss and dead leaves, to small, secluded lakes sustained by the calming flow of waterfalls, when not yet partially frozen.

Yuri Hephaestus often complained that, considered their respective propensities to recreate warm and chill temperatures, winter put his rival at an advantage. To this criticism, Victor replied that, in light of the mysterious workings of divinity, the contrary might also be possible: having the season already aggravated the climate, Yuuri Hermes might have to do more in order to show any change in the chosen environment. He remarked that, in any case, his palace, where the contest would take place, would offer a neutralized space for them to demonstrate their powers and, in the end, if one of his students relied excessively on the environment, they would find themselves at a disadvantage when its help was no longer available. Moreover, Yuuri would not be allowed to use his staff during the face-off, effectively erasing any lead he might have had in channelling his energy.

Meanwhile, unbeknown to his companions, Yuuri Hermes found himself in the exacting position of both training for the contest against his half-brother and the qualifying rounds of the Grand Pythian Festival, which would be held not too far after and would send him on two short journeys to Sparta and Cyprus.

To balance the two challenges, in the middle of the day he would study with Victor and Yuri, while at its start and at its closure he would stay with Minako to rehearse his short program and finalize his free dance. Done the first competition, he would leave for Peloponnesus to focus on his dancing alone and, although he would return on Olympus at least once a month to deliver his letters, he wouldn’t settle again on mountain until after the festival; only then he would be able to learn from Victor how to create cooked pork, were he to win against Yuri and have his wish turned into a prize.

Carrying two commitments at the same time took a toll on the god’s restfulness, but he was determined to try and succeed, as he cared a great deal about growing as a deity and growing as a performer and would not be satisfied with making progress in only one of the disciplines.

These days were not all spent in fatigue; nature and wilderness invited work and play alike in a way that much reminded Yuuri of the time he and Victor had spent on Cyllene. It was always a joy for him to have the opportunity to be in his beloved friend’s company and even his half-brother proved to be a fun comrade, once one was willing to look past his rusty appearances. When training was over, a reward a came in the form of Aphrodite’s informal banquets, which also afforded Yuuri the comfort of playing with the god’s dog as he had used to do with his own.

All in all, the experience had equipped him with the means to achieve triumph and every anxiety about the outcome of the contest was to be attributed to his erratically insecure personality and to his respect for his opponent’s skills rather than his actual preparation.

On the morning of the competition, the ensuing fourth, Yuuri flied at dawn to the slant of Victor’s dwelling, with his sixth letter in one hand and his Kerukeion in the other.

He was puzzled to find the receiver already bathed at such an hour, barely covered by a shimmering, dripping towel, as he frequently was after dipping, and wearing nothing else but a veiled tiara. A mirror was still clutched in his grip and his pearled ring was nowhere to be seen, which made Yuuri think that perhaps he had caught the god still in the act of prettying himself up, if so could be done with his extraordinary beauty.

“Yuuri, you came early!” Victor exclaimed, with sincere surprise and not a tinge of displeasure. “I wasn’t expecting you for some hours! This is going to be a very eventful day for you and I would have thought you’d have slept late to get properly rested!”

“Eventful enough that, if I want to accomplish everything, I cannot slack off. Here’s your love letter.” Yuuri said, depositing the scroll in the other’s palm. As they shifted, the towel started falling from Victor’s hips, but, with a motion of his hand, he submitted the cloth to his will and commanded its return back in place.

“Have you at least had breakfast? If not, let me make you something.” He then said, turning to the banquet room.

“Thanks, I’ll have some pork.” The other agreed, to which Victor laughed tenderly.

“I’ll give you some bread. You can have pork if you win today’s competition.”

As Yuuri ate, his companion got dressed and, when they were both finished, he leaned onto his guest.

“It has been a long time since we have gone to the beach.” He murmured. “I’m taking Makkachin and I was wondering if I could steal some more of your minutes and ask you to come with us.”

The sea was close enough be seen from their side of the mountain in most weathers and, even though he should have liked to train more, Yuuri had also a weak spot for his mentor and in that weakness he decided to agree.

They went by carriage and landed on a deserted strip, distant enough from the nearest village for them not to worry about being disturbed. There, they sat on the rocks and watched the curly-coated dog run back and forth on the gravel; the windy surges and the semi-clouded sky discouraged swimming and sunbathing, however the two friends did not feel that their trip was somehow inconvenienced by the rough conditions.

“I want to congratulate you, Yuuri.” Victor said, raising his gaze to the sky. “This is the first time I’ve seen you fly without the help of your helmet.”

“You noticed.” He blushed as he answered. He had not wanted to treat it like a big thing, but he had become much more stable on his sandals, to the point that, if he wore his helmet, it was for the increased speed rather than necessity. For the day’s delivery, he had gone out without.

“You are a strong deity, there’s nothing you couldn’t do if you set your heart on it. The command of the elements, the wreaths of victory… everything you could wish for is there for you to take. What is stopping you from taking it?”

Yuuri stared at the waves clashing ashore, their loud splashes a perfect distraction for the eyes and he ears, while he took his time to weight in the encouraging words that were Victor’s own.

“I don’t know,” he said, after taking a deep breath, “I guess I just lack confidence.”

A seagull scampered by the dog, who chased it off with a sprint and a firm bark.

“You lack confidence?”

“I am not like you, a powerful god or a masterful dancer.”

Victor raised his finger to his lips and hummed in thought.

“It is my job to make you the former,” he said kindly and yet seriously, “but nobody thinks you aren’t the latter. I have utter confidence in you and today, at the contest, I want you to show everybody on Olympus that you can sway the world as well as you can sway a theatre.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter of Yuri!!! On Olympus: Drama at Mount Olympus
> 
> If you are reading my fic, it would mean a lot to me if you let me know in the comments!
> 
> Follow [@yurionolympus](https://yurionolympus.tumblr.com/) for extra content about this alternative universe and other mythology AUs. You can drop me asks and such.
> 
> My main is [@bug-catcher-in-viridian-forest](https://bug-catcher-in-viridian-forest.tumblr.com/).


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